


Unsolicited

by Dangerousnotbroken



Series: The Dick Pic 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blowjobs, Bondage, Booty Calls, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Confessions of love, Dildos, Dom!Cas, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexting, Skype Sex, Smut, So much smut, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Tattooed!Castiel, Team Dean's Red Ass, Top!Cas, and fluff, bottom!Dean, mechanic!Dean, panty!kink, pornstar!Castiel, surprisingly there is fluff, the least likely kind of meeting, unsolicted dick pics, watching porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6719128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean Winchester gets an unsolicited dick pic from an unknown sender which is both totally not disappointing in that it's a really nice dick pic, and incredibly disappointing in that it's clearly a downloaded picture of his favorite porn star. </p><p>There's absolutely no way it's actually this porn star sending it to him, right?</p><p>Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sender Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> During the early stages of writing this fic (and truly, up until about the day before I got the first chapter back from my beta) I was running with the working title of Dick Pic Fic, which has some nice rhyming but just lacked the kind of finesse I was hoping for. Its still what I will always call this in my head. 
> 
> If there was a rating higher than explicit, that's the one I would have chosen for this fic.
> 
> My beta on this piece is the incomparable [KreweOfImp,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp/pseuds/KreweOfImp) who is basically just too amazing to be accurately described in the words at my disposal. She has my eternal gratitude.
> 
> Update 11/7/2016  
> Now with fanart!!  
> [Featherfluff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/featherfluff) [(LethalQueerWitch on Tumblr)](http://lethalqueerwitch.tumblr.com/) has done a beautiful piece from this fic and I'm basically beside myself with glee because not only has someone decided to do fanart of this work but it is GORGEOUS. It is stunning. I can't sing her praises loudly enough. You'll find it embedded in chapter 3, right where the thing it's inspired by happens. Do you love it? Tell her! I sure as heck did!
> 
> Update 11/20/2016  
> Now with _more_ fanart!!  
> [writehandman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writehandman/pseuds/writehandman) [(MooseInABoot on Tumblr)](http://mooseinaboot.tumblr.com/) has illustrated my favourite line (and a favorite of a lot of commenters too!), and the art for that is embedded in chapter 4 where it belongs! You should check it out!

It starts, as many things do these days, with a text message.

Any other Friday night Dean would probably have slept right through it. He’s been woken up at ungodly hours frequently enough by Benny trying valiantly to convince him that it’s the perfect time to join him for a drink that it’s pretty much habit to silence his phone before going to bed now. Sometimes it really is just a drink that Benny is looking for, but sometimes it’s a little bit more, and Dean is weak so he’ll inevitably cave and end up hauling himself out of bed for an ill-advised booty call. And as much as he loves sex, what Dean really wants these days is sleep, hence the silenced phone.

On this particular night however, Dean had dinner with Sam and Jess, ignoring his better judgement to stay late and drink probably several more beers than was technically advisable, and was so tired by the time he made it home that he barely had the foresight to remove his jeans. So when the text comes in at 2:27, it pulls him right out of a dream about having a beer with Harrison Ford. He reaches blindly for the phone, squinting at the screen as he opens it to see the offending message.

**_Hey_ **

That’s all it says. Dean checks the sender and finds it’s not a number stored in his contacts.  From the area code he can tell that it’s local but he doesn’t recognize it. He’s still scratching his head in that haze that results from being pulled abruptly out of a very deep sleep when the phone chimes again.

**_You awake?_ **

_I am now._

Dean sends back. It’s hard to convey annoyance in a text message so he just has to hope the person on the other end picks up on it.

In retrospect, Dean has no idea why he replied at all. The easiest thing to do would be to silence his phone and go back to sleep and pretend it never happened. He might wake up to more messages in the morning but who cares, right?  But he’s alert now, and he’s morbidly curious, so when his phone says he’s got a new picture message, he doesn’t hesitate to open it..

Dean has no regrets.

The picture message, sent with no caption or commentary, is a clear and vivid shot of the most perfect cock he’s ever laid eyes on, and Dean has seen his fair share of cocks in his day. It’s hard and fully erect, the tip shiny with precome, held loosely in one hand. He assumes the owner’s other hand is holding the camera. Tattoos snake up the forearm that he can see, the fingernails of that hand painted shiny black, and Dean groans quietly. The fact that a picture like this can stir such lust in him so quickly is a frustrating reminder of how long it’s been since he got well and truly dicked.

It’s the dry spell that makes him stare at the picture for so much longer than is reasonable. Common decency says that if a stranger accidentally sends you nudes, you delete them and inform the sender that there’s been a mistake. It’s the nice thing to do. But fuck, it’s just such a perfect dick. Dean would love to wrap his lips around the head and lick up every drop of precome, feel the thickness of it filling him up. He’s hard just looking at it. He stares for a ridiculously long time, thinking about how heavy it would feel on his tongue. For so long, in fact, that apparently the sender gets impatient.

**_Like what you see?_ **

Dean hesitates. It’s past the point where he can let this mistake stand, but again, he’s weak. He goes to take one more good look at the picture before doing the right thing and deleting it. The fingers wrapping around that gorgeous cock are long and slender, strong fingers attached to a wrist bearing a tattoo that Dean might have recognized immediately if it weren’t for what else was in the picture. Now that he’s looking, though, it’s achingly familiar. He’d know those tattoos anywhere. They snake up the forearm, actual snakes with their heads on the back of his hand, entwining up his arm in some sort of biblical thing. There’s an apple in there somewhere, the forbidden fruit, and the bicep is covered in curling vines and leaves. The fact that the subject’s face isn’t visible in the photo doesn’t hinder Dean at in identifying him now that he’s picked up on this very important detail.

_Very nice. I was feeling pretty guilty there for a minute seeing as this is a wrong number and I’m not the person you meant to be sending that to. Until I realized that you basically just sent me a still off a porn site. If you’re gonna send unsolicited dick pics, you should at least make sure it’s your own dick._

Dean scoffs and drops his phone on the bed. Those tattoos should have been a dead giveaway. The man who wears them, the one with that perfect cock, also has shiny black plugs in his ears and a ring through his lip, though he doesn’t always wear it. His dark hair is perpetually messy, whether he’s just been fucked or is just about to fuck.

He’s a fucking gorgeous man. He’s also gorgeous when he’s fucking.

Dean knows this for a fact because he’s spent many a lonely night watching the owner of the dick in the picture do incredibly filthy things while Dean wraps his fist around his own dick. That dick doesn’t belong to some rando sending a booty call to the wrong person in the middle of the night, it belongs to Emmanuel Milton, who is quite possibly Dean’s favourite porn star in all the world.

**_What do you mean? Of course it’s my own dick. Why would I send someone else’s dick?_ **

_I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure Emmanuel Milton isn’t actually sending me nudes right now._

**_Oh so you recognized me_ **

_I recognized the tattoos. Not convinced they’re attached to the person sending the texts._

**_Well, stranger, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me whose number I got, I’ll send you a pic that proves I’m me_ **

_How you gonna manage that?_

**_Dealer’s choice. Whatever you say, that’s what I’ll send. Pick something you know can’t be a fake_ **

_Dude. I don’t even know why you care if I believe you. It’s just a wrong number._

**_Same reason I tried to booty call my friend at 230. I’m awake and I’m bored. It’ll amuse me. Enough stalling. Name. Photo parameters_ **

Dean is entirely unconvinced. There’s just no way. Emmanuel Milton is prolific. He’s fucked all the big names (or been fucked by them). He’s hot as hell, cocky and aggressive regardless of whether he’s the bottom or the top. He even managed to be bossy the one time Dean watched him as the middle of a really fantastic threesome. There is just no way in hell that the guy texting him is the same one that winks while he’s deepthroating. It’s not possible.

But he’ll play along. He’s awake now anyway.

_Ok, I’ll bite. Send me a picture with a cowboy hat, a Popsicle, and your whole face has to be visible._

**_Is that all? You’re not even making this difficult. And you still haven’t even told me your name._ **

_Dean, and since you’re being a cocky little asshole about it, I want a blue necktie around your dick._

Since Dean has committed himself to being awake, he flips the lamp on his nightstand on and sits up in bed. This is either going to be the most comical farce of his adult life or something well worth waking up for.

Dean’s bet is on farce. He’s expecting a grainy picture of someone who looks nothing at all like Emmanuel Milton with a dollar store hat and an unimpressive dick. And then he’ll laugh and turn off his ringer and go back to sleep, and in the morning he’ll probably laugh some more.

Dean doesn’t get a response for several long minutes. It goes past the point where he thinks the guy is taking multiple selfies and picking the best and into the realm where he starts to think he’s successfully called the bluff. He’s not going to get a response, he thinks. The guy has given up fucking with him. Then his phone chimes again, flashing an alert that says he’s got a new picture message.

He doesn’t get a grainy picture. What he gets is clear and sharp. It’s not taken with a cell phone; much more likely it’s been taken with a higher quality digital camera, uploaded to a computer, emailed to his phone, and _then_ texted to Dean. And it’s the furthest thing from disappointing. There in all the glory afforded in a screen the size of his palm is none other than the actual Emmanuel Milton with a cowboy had perched on his head, lips wrapped around a cherry Popsicle. His eyebrow is raised in a challenge, blue eyes sparkling. The tattoos on his chest are fully visible now, bold black lines swooping and curving across his body, licking over the hip bones that jut out sharply. There’s a dark blue tie around his cock, still erect in Emmanuel’s other hand.

Dean is no longer upset about being woken up in the middle of the night.

**_So, Dean, believe me now?_ **

_I stand corrected. That is definitely your own dick._

**_I told you. Now, fair is fair. You’ve got two naked pictures of me but I’ve got none of you._ **

_I thought the trade was picture for my name._

**_Well yeah. But we’re quite unbalanced. You’ve seen my cock and, I assume, at least several of my films if you recognize the tattoos. I don’t even know what you look like. Come on. Make this interesting._ **

Dean snaps a handful of quick selfies with the camera on his phone and spends several minutes deciding which one is the least unflattering. He ponders putting a shirt on and then decides he’s too lazy to bother, so he’s naked from the waist up in every shot. All the while he’s wondering how the fuck this is happening. What in the world did Dean do to deserve this incredible gift of fortune? A man he’s never dared to think of meeting even in his lustiest dreams just happens to have a friend whose phone number is close enough to Dean’s own that he can accidentally send Dean nudes, and _then_ he decides to roll with it? Dean has clearly won the unsolicited dick pic lottery.

Dean thinks he looks appealingly dishevelled in the picture he sends. His hair is sleep mussed and his skin is flushed and pink, both from the warmth of his bed and the filthy thoughts presently running through his head. There’s absolutely no pretence of disinterest in this conversation. Dean would love to be able to say that he’s playing it cool, but he’s not. He’s totally focused on his phone while waiting for a reply, although he does spare enough attention to grab a beer out of the fridge. He’s got a feeling he’s gonna be awake for a while. Might as well have a drink.

He’s just barely sat back down on his bed when Emmanuel replies.

**_Shit you’re hot._ **

Dean laughs to himself when he reads the message. He’s heard that before, or at least similar, but never from someone as desirable as the person he’s currently talking to.

_Yeah? Glad I don’t disappoint._

**_I wouldn’t say that. I AM kinda disappointed you didn’t see fit to show a bit more. I’d love to see your cock._ **

And now Dean’s internal monologue has just been replaced with disembodied screaming. He shouldn’t be considering this, like, at all, but he is, and furthermore, he’s out of bed and flipping to the camera app on his phone like, instantly. It’s amazing what kind of stupid decisions Dean is capable of making when his dick is doing the thinking, but then, if it’s his dick that’s going to be in the picture, he supposes it should at least get a say in the decision.

The mirror is probably the best way to do this thing. He spares a quick glance for the room behind him to make sure there’s nothing he’s gonna be embarrassed about, then slides his boxer shorts to the floor. He’s already pretty hard from the thrill of the whole scenario, so all it takes is a few firm strokes to bring him to full attention. He takes the picture with his hand still wrapped around it, the swollen head poking out the top of his fist, and sends it to Emmanuel before he can talk himself out of it. It’s grainer than Emmanuel’s pics, less steady, but his cock is clear enough in the image.

**_That’s what I like to see._ **

Emmanuel sends, and Dean blushes.

**_You hard for me?_ **

He asks, and Dean nearly chokes on his tongue.

_Fuck yeah_

**_Good. I don’t think I’m getting my booty call tonight, so it’s up to you to keep me entertained_ **

**_If you’re up for it ;)_ **

_I think I can play along_

Dean replies, his mouth going dry. He’s suddenly very glad he doesn’t have a roommate and runs no risk of having anyone walk into the room at any point, because yup, he’s definitely sexting with a porn star when he should be sleeping, and he’s 100% going to see where this goes.

**_Are you touching yourself Dean?_ **

_Yeah_

**_Tell me what you’re thinking about_ **

Dean is so fucking turned on by all this. It’s hard to type replies with one hand, but he strokes himself slowly and relies on auto-correct to make his messages make sense. Deciding what to say is a different matter. Dirty talk in person is one thing. You can whisper filthy things in a person’s ear, growl out desires and murmur praise, and it just comes naturally. Sexting is different, and it’s not something Dean has ever had occasion to do.

_I’m thinking about sucking your cock_

Is what Dean settles on, because honestly, he is. He’s thinking about how well he might manage something that big, thinking about how sensitive Emmanuel’s balls might be, thinking about how amazing it would be to hear all the little noises he makes in his films but in person, just for Dean.

He can already tell this isn’t going to be a marathon endeavour. Even the distraction of having to focus on texting isn’t going to slow the simmer enough to really prolong anything.

**_I bet you’d look so good on your knees for me. Do you like to bottom, or top?_ **

_Bottom. Definitely bottom_

Dean replies quickly. The little fantasy he’s living out right now has him on the edge, so close to coming already. The man on the other end of this text conversation could do things that would make him scream with pleasure. Dean can’t begin to imagine this going anywhere further, but what’s happening right now is already enough to blow his mind.

**_So you’d want me to fuck you then? Everyone always wants to fuck me. Unlocks some kind of achievement, getting their dick in someone with my resume._ **

_I don’t mind topping but I’d much rather get fucked. Not gonna lie though I’d do pretty much whatever you wanted me to do._

Dean’s fist flies over his cock while he waits for a reply. He rocks his hips up into the friction, revelling in the sparks of pleasure that course through his body when his wrist twists just so at the tip. A part of his brain still can’t believe this is even happening, but the rest of him is stuck on the part where it’s just way too fucking hot for words, and he really doesn’t feel like analysing it any further.

**_That’s an incredibly appealing offer. I might have to take you up on it some time. I bet you look fucking gorgeous when you come._ **

He’s still trying to figure out what to even say in response when the next message comes through, another picture. Emmanuel has taken the picture lying back on his bed. The tie is long gone and he’s probably eaten the popsicle by now, but he’s still wearing the cowboy had pulled low over his eyes. His cock is still clutched in one hand, leaking come onto a stomach which is already covered with the evidence of his orgasm. The sight of it is enough to drive Dean over the edge, spurting over his fist as he groans into the night. He’s still breathing heavily, coming down from his orgasm when Emmanuel messages again.

**_Not what I was aiming for when I sent that text, but not altogether an unpleasant surprise. Don’t lose my number, Dean. Never know what kind of trouble we could get into together._ **

_Sure thing, Emmanuel._

**_Dude, you know that’s not my real name right? Call me Cas. You’ll be hearing from me._ **

_Sure thing, Cas._

Dean turns his phone to silent for real this time, drains the rest of his beer and, after cleaning himself up, crawls back into bed. Sleep comes easily, surprisingly, but his dreams are excessively dirty and that’s no surprise at all.

They’re so dirty, in fact, that when he wakes up in the morning on Saturday he’s got himself almost convinced that he dreamed the entire thing. It’s certainly in keeping with the wildly inappropriate nature of the other things his mind spun out overnight. He remembers the dream about having a beer with Harrison Ford, although that one ended rather abruptly, and he has distinct recollections of dreaming about getting on his knees and letting Emmanuel Milton come all over his face. Faced with those memories, it’s only reasonable to believe the whole nude pictures/sexting thing was a dream as well.

Based on this certainty, he doesn’t even bother looking at his phone until after coffee is brewed and he’s sitting at his kitchen table with a steaming mug. Even then he only unlocks the thing to check his email and see if there’s anything interesting on Facebook (spoiler alert: there’s not). It is therefore entirely unexpected when he sees he’s got a new text message from a number not saved to his phone.

**_Good night, Dean,_ **

So yes, he did have a text conversation with a porn star last night, and yes, the pictures are all still on his phone. He nearly does a spit take of his coffee when he’s forced to acknowledge it actually happened, but it only takes a couple taps of the screen to save the pictures to his device for posterity.

Yeah. Posterity.

That’s why.

He also stores Emmanuel’s—or rather, Cas’ number to his contact list, knowing full well he’s not going to have the fortitude to start anything but sending silent messages out to the universe in hopes that Cas will.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to come scream at me about this fic or like basically anything else, I can be found on [Tumblr.](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) I welcome it. Please come scream at me.


	2. Flying Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean gets bored of waiting for Cas to call, but can't quite aquire the stones necessary to pick up the phone himself. Fortunately, there's porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so a disclaimer I probably should have included with the first chapter but excuse me, I'm a terrible person. 
> 
> Do not, under any circumstances, send unsolicited photographs of your genitalia to people, strangers or otherwise. I don't care what's in your pants; penis, vagina, or a lizard you've tucked in there for safekeeping. Just don't. 
> 
> Actually, strike that last part. If you wanna send me pictures of cute geckos or chameleons you have riding around in your pockets, my submit box on [ tumblr](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) is always open.
> 
> No dick pics though.
> 
> This fic has gotten SO much more love than I anticipated and I love each and every one of you. Thank you for screaming at me. Keep at it

Unsurprisingly, after Friday’s fortuitous circumstances, Dean stops muting his phone when he goes to bed. Saturday he gets lucky (or unlucky) and gets to sleep right through the night. Porn isn’t a 9 to 5 gig, so Dean harboured a bit of a hope that Cas might get in touch during the week for something a little bit more up close and personal, but no such luck. The following weekend brings a Friday invite for drinks with Benny that turns out to be actual drinks, and another on Saturday that _isn’t_ for drinks, and Dean loses out on a hell of a lot of sleep. He’s not exactly upset by this, in all honesty. Benny may just be a friend with sporadic benefits, but Dean has been single for a long-ass time so he’s a big fan of those benefits.

Cas doesn’t text though, not that first weekend, or the one following, or the one after that, and eventually Dean stops holding out any real hope that every text message that makes his phone chime is going to be from his favourite adult video star. He doesn’t stop thinking about that night though, not for a second, and after a month of replaying it in his head the three pictures on his phone stop being as exciting as they once were.

Dean decides, therefore, that it would be prudent to refresh his memory and give his imagination something else to play with. It’s been easy to get himself worked up over the past few weeks just thinking about the progression of events, scrolling through the brief text conversation and staring at the picture of Cas covered in come. What’s so incredibly hot is that Dean can trick himself into thinking that it’s a private moment they shared, even if he knows it’s not really true. Dean was a means to an end, an amusement, and Cas didn’t show Dean anything he hasn’t shown to thousands of subscribers on his studio’s website.

With that in mind, Dean drops his laptop onto his bed and settles in for an evening of self-pleasure and hardcore porn. It’s the most logical thing to do, really. He’s already got a subscription to the Bad Angels website, which is how he recognised Emmanuel/Cas in the first place. Dean still finds it hard to refer to him as Cas. It shouldn’t be weird. It’s not like he’s talking about the guy in any sort of real life conversations so it doesn’t really seem like it should matter what Dean calls the guy in his own head. And yet it’s weirdly personal, calling him by something other than his falsified porn name. In any case, what this evening calls for is a few choice videos, a bottle of astroglide, and Dean’s favourite dildo. Then he can get himself off and go to bed with his phone muted, secure in the knowledge that if he does miss a text or a call from Benny, well, he already came tonight.

The website gives Dean the option of choosing from the most recently released videos, looking at a list of categories, or navigating based on which of their stars he’d like to see. Of course he’s going to select Emmanuel Milton’s page, but he’s in the mood to drag things out tonight so he figures he’ll watch a few old favourites to set the mood and then dive into some of the newer ones he hasn’t seen before to finish things off. It’s late enough in the evening that he’s pretty much written off doing much of anything after his marathon masturbation session but early enough that he feels like he can really relax and take his time.

There is nothing at all embarrassing about knowing right away which videos have his favourite scenes in them, Dean tells himself. It’s not weird at all. Everyone has preferences. Dean just happens to have a remarkable memory for details, so he knows that this one here, with the purple couch, is the one where Cas (he tells himself he’s got licence to use the name, so he really ought to. It’s only polite) fucks a leanly muscled blonde so flexible his ankles could probably cross behind his own head. And the one that looks like it was filmed in some kind of a rustic mountain cabin is the one where Cas pushes the other guy’s face into the mattress and fucks him so hard you can hear their skin slapping. There are just really obvious visual cues, is all. Totally not weird.

Dean’s hard and leaking against his belly by the time he works his way through his favourite videos. They’re all hot, honestly, but the few he chooses are the ones that play out things that Dean would be specifically interested in having done to him should the opportunity arise. He’s nowhere near as flexible as the guy in the purple couch video, obviously, but getting pounded into the mattress like in the other one, that he can handle, and the way Cas stares up at his partner when he sucks cock is inspiring enough that Dean has to clamp a hand down on the base of his cock to avoid going off like a rocket.

There are only a few videos that Dean hasn’t actually seen. He’d been sure that there would be more, being that he hasn’t exactly been diligently checking the site, but in total there are only four videos newer than the last one he can recall watching. Based on the dates, Cas hasn’t been in anything at all filmed in the last 2 months. Dean notes the information but doesn’t really think too much on it, and clicks the oldest of the new videos.

It’s a solo piece, which is interesting. To Dean’s knowledge, Cas hasn’t done one of those before. It starts off with him on a couch, tight black t-shirt and boxer briefs on, doing nothing at all to disguise his already hard cock. Dean palms his own dick, also standing at attention, and watches the screen intently as Cas ghosts hands all over himself, drawing the eye to his solid thighs, the soft sigh on his parted lips, the muscles of his core as he tugs just the hem of his shirt up and lets it go. He makes such a slow tease of it, riling himself and Dean up as he touches everywhere but makes no move to undress. His hips press up off the couch when he slides a palm over his cock, grinding himself up against his hand before retreating to tease again. Quiet moans slip into the air as he moves, noises so soft they’re only picked up because there’s no music and no other sounds to drown them out.

Dean barely touches himself as Cas draws out the process of getting naked. The video is ten minutes in by the time his shirt hits the floor, and it takes another three before he frees his cock from his shorts and puts himself on display for the camera. The spread of his legs gives Dean a beautiful view, and he wants nothing more than to bury his face between those thighs, leave little bite marks behind and lave his tongue all over Cas’ balls before he fits that perfect cock as far as possible into his mouth.

Dean only drags the tips of his fingers over his own cock as he watches Cas stroke himself on screen, only hints at friction on his balls as Cas turns over to perch on his knees on the couch, but when Cas reaches back and pushes a single finger into his own tight hole, Dean is forced to abandon the slow torture and match pace.

It feels so fucking good to finger himself open. His fingers are slick and the burn of it lights him on fire. Still, he forces himself to keep control, not adding a second finger until Cas does so onscreen, his groans on the computer’s speakers matched by Dean’s voice in the quiet of his room. When Cas adds a third finger, Dean’s pretty sure his own hole isn’t stretched enough to handle it but he goes for it anyway.  He is surprised to find that while it hurts, it also flares the arousal in his veins and he can keep on thrusting right alongside his onscreen companion.

Out of nowhere, Cas produces a shiny pink dildo. His fingers are only out of his ass for a few seconds before he’s teasing at his hole with the head of the thing, moaning with pleasure as he circles his slick rim and hints at sliding it in. Dean watches, enrapt, until Cas starts pushing just the head in, slow and teasing and fucking cruel, and then he’s reaching for his own toy, slicking it up and joining right along. And fuck, it feels good to have something in his ass. It’s been weeks since the last time he had anything up there.  He doesn’t often answer Benny’s booty calls and honestly even when he does, it’s just like scratching an itch. It’s not really passionate or satisfying or thrilling, maybe because there’s never been anything between them other than friendship and no-strings-attached sex. Benny calls Dean when he needs a drinking buddy or when he’s pretty sure he’s gonna strike out at the bar. Dean’s a willing partner; a warm body to rut against when the need gets too hot. It’s not terrible, but it’s also not great. Dean wants sex that leaves him sore for days and hungry for more. He wants someone to fuck him like they can’t get enough. He wants a person to fuck him like Cas is fucking himself on that toy on screen.

Dean’s own dildo plunges into his ass at a steady pace, trying to keep up with Cas’ thrusts on screen while he jerks his slick cock. Cas has himself horizontal on the couch now, giving the camera a great view of the pink toy disappearing into his hole, and Dean can see that his balls are drawn up tight. Cas’ hips jerk upward, back arching with each thrust, and he sounds so fucking wrecked that it’s making it hard for Dean to hold on.

“Fuck…” Cas groans out, low and raw and fucking filthy, and the hunger in his voice is what does Dean in. He’s shooting off almost without warning, come coating his hand and landing on his abdomen as his hole clenches around the long, black dildo.

And of course, his phone choses that _exact second_ to ring.  Somehow Dean manages to mute the video as he reaches for the phone, not even bothering to look at the screen before answering it because, as it turns out, Dean is an idiot.

“Hello,” Dean rasps, cursing himself for being so wrapped up in orgasmic haze that he picked the damn thing up without checking. Or at all. He wills his breath to slow in case it’s someone who matters and reaches around for the towel he knows is around somewhere, wiping his hand and his stomach clean when he finds it.

“Fuck,” growls the same voice that just did him in on the video. “You sound just as good as you look,” Cas muses, and Dean may be less than a minute post-orgasm but that seductive tone sends a thrill through his body that has his dick trying to get back in the action already.

“Hey,” Dean replies, trying to sound composed. “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you.”

“I told you I’d be in touch,” Cas reminds him coyly. “But Jesus, you sound like you just got fucked. I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?” He does not sound apologetic in the least.

“No, no I’m not busy,” Dean affirms. He _almost_ tells Cas that he just finished up with his plans for the evening, but fortunately at least a tiny corner of his brain is still online.

“Oh, I see,” Cas replies, his voice somehow managing to suggest impure things in only three words, “a little solo action, is it?” Dean does not want to answer this question. He wants very much not to answer this question. It’s one thing to fuck himself on a silicone cock while watching videos of a guy doing the exact same thing.  It’s entirely different to have a conversation about that act with the person in the video, whether or not said video is discussed. Dean cannot, _will not_ survive that conversation. He will die of mortification.

Unfortunately, Dean takes exactly one second too long to start speaking, and Cas takes the hesitation for exactly what it is: a confirmation.

“Hmm, that’s a nice thought. You watching my videos while you touch yourself Dean?” Cas drops his voice low, breathes the words out all airy and sultry, and either Dean is powerless to resist or he just straight up doesn’t want to fight it.

“Yeah, I was,” he admits, struggling with the urge to bury his face in a pillow to stifle anything else dumb he might be inspired to say. Turns out he probably should have gone with the impulse, because for approximately the ten-thousandth time in the last two minutes, his mouth is moving without first consulting his brain. “The solo one with the pink dildo,” he offers helpfully.

“Good choice,” Cas laughs, a deep rumble that Dean finds stirring arousal even though he hasn’t had time to recover from his last orgasm. His dick tries valiantly to rise to the occasion. “That one was pretty fun to film. Of course, I _do_ always prefer having a partner there with me. So much more enjoyable, don’t you agree?”

Dean’s tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth. He’s by no means shy; in fact, he’s been described as cocky a fair handful of times. He’s always got a clever retort at the ready and he’s no stranger to flirting.  And yet now, when he wants nothing more than to trade suggestive banter with this fucking sex god that’s somehow taken an interest in him, all Dean can muster up in reply is a strangled “yeah,” as he casts eyes around the room and tries to remember where he left his underwear.

“Aw, do I make you nervous Dean?” Cas coos tauntingly. “That’s kinda cute.”

“Not nervous,” Dean replies somewhat grumpily. “Just wasn’t expecting to have to hold down a conversation at this exact moment.”

“I wasn’t exactly calling to chat,” Cas says, his voice low and suggestive. “Seems like your evening is already spoken for though, so I guess I’ll have to get mine elsewhere.”

“Sorry to disappoint. If I’d known you were gonna call…” Dean finally finds his words and tries valiantly to regain a little bit of standing in the conversation. The man may be an honest-to-goodness sex symbol, but it doesn’t mean Dean has to let himself be intimidated. He was just caught off guard before. Yeah. That’s it. Caught off guard.

“You _could_ have called me, you know. You do have my number,” Cas points out.

 “Yeah, for sure,” Dean scoffs. “I mean, why wouldn’t I call a guy I’ve never even met and ask him to help me with my boner problem. You do know porn isn’t real life, right? Like, that’s not a thing normal people do.”

“Why not? You’re hot, I’m hot, life is short. Next time, you should call me.  I bet you’ll have a lot more fun with the real me than my videos. In fact, I’ll make sure of it.” Cas manages to make the words carry all manner of promises as to how he’d accomplish that, promises that Dean would be more than happy to let him keep.

“Yeah? And you’re just gonna be sitting around on a Friday night, waiting for a guy like me to call?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for green eyes. Anyway, since you’re busy, I’m gonna go find something else to do with my evening. See you around, Dean.” Cas hangs up before Dean can even respond, leaving him sitting there staring stupidly at his phone.

“What the fuck just happened?” Dean says to no one in particular.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Screaming into the void? Find me on [Tumblr! ](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) You could even send me unsolicited lizard pics!
> 
> Also, while you wait for me to post the next chapter, perhaps you'd like to check out [the Let It Snow series ](http://archiveofourown.org/series/386992) by my lovely beta KreweOfImp! It's fantastic destiel BDSM in a canon adjacent setting and I quite love it. What are you waiting for? Go!


	3. Call Me, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean and Cas finally get a little face time, and it's predictably pretty great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, when I find an artist who works in the style I'm envisioning, I'm gonna commission a picture of Cas from this fic so you can all see exactly what I'm seeing in my filthy little gutter brain
> 
> Update: There's Art!! [Featherfluff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/featherfluff) [(LethalQueerWitch on Tumblr)](http://lethalqueerwitch.tumblr.com/) has done a beautiful piece from this chapter and you'll find it embedded below. Do you love it? Tell her! I sure as heck did!

The following Friday, Dean agrees to meet Benny for beers after work. He figures that if he hangs out for a while before bowing out because he’s too tired to go to whatever bar Benny has next on the agenda, he’ll be less likely to get a drunken phone call later in the evening. It’s been a long week. As much as Dean enjoys the beer and the company, he’s really looking forward to getting home.

Predictably enough, a couple beers turn into a couple more and before he knows it, Dean’s drunker than he planned on. Benny notes the slight weave in his walk and presses for more.

“So what you think, brother? Been a long time since we been out for a night on the town. I could use a good wingman.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Dean thinks about it for a minute, pointedly not answering while he sips at the pint of lager still in front of him. It could be fun. He could be a good friend, have a fun night, and sleep it off tomorrow. He won’t even have to drink all that much if he doesn’t want to. But then Benny keeps talking.

“Come on. You’ll have more fun out with me than you will sitting at home. I’ll make sure of it.” There’s no hint of suggestion in his voice but it hits Dean right between the eyes anyway because yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what Cas said, and Dean suddenly knows exactly what he wants to do with his evening.

“Gonna have to take a pass, Benny. Try not to get into too much trouble.” Dean tips back the last of his beer and slaps some bills on the table to cover his tab, then pats Benny on the shoulder on his way past. As he clears the door he can hear the burly Cajun calling out behind him, but Dean’s already made his decision. He’s gonna booty-call a porn star.

It’s only a few blocks between the pub and his apartment, thankfully, because Dean spends the entire walk second-guessing himself and trying to figure out how to go about this. Literally nothing in his life has in any way prepared him for this situation. Benny usually starts a booty call or text with something along the lines of _hey, you awake?_ Which is exactly what Cas used when he texted whoever he thought had Dean’s number. But it’s only like 9 pm, so that line isn’t really gonna work.

_Still sitting by the phone waiting for me to call?_

Dean sends the message as he’s climbing the steps to his building’s front door. It’s not anything particularly clever, but Dean figures that doesn’t actually matter. Cas told him to call next time he… _next time._ Either that was an open invitation and all Dean really has to say is “let’s go,” or it was all bluster and there isn’t a thing he can say that’s gonna get him laid tonight anyway. At the absolute worst, he’s disappointed and he can still try to catch up with Benny later.

His phone chimes just as he’s sliding the key into the lock on his own door. Dean drops his keys on the kitchen counter and fishes his phone back out of his leather jacket to see what Cas has to say on the subject.

**_Depends. You lookin for some company or you just bein a tease?_ **

_I don’t tease_

Dean replies confidently, feeling a smile creep across his face as he types.

**_I’m not at home right now but oh no, all of my plans have suddenly been cancelled at this exact minute for no reason at all. Guess I’m free. Where are you?_ **

Dean texts his address and then scans his surroundings. The place is a mess. He doesn’t entertain much but on the occasions when someone does enter his apartment he likes to convey at least an imitation of giving a shit. He’s hoping that wherever Cas is, it’s not right around the corner, because right now his home is mildly embarrassing.

**_I’m about 20 minutes away_ **

Cas informs him. Dean offers up silent gratitude to whatever deity might be watching over him right now and gets to work. He focuses his attention on the bedroom and the living room, assuming that there won’t be any reason for them to be spending much time anywhere else tonight. He clears empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, sets the couch cushions to rights, throws the pile of clean laundry off his bed into a basket and crams it in the closet before clearing all the dirty laundry off the floor and throwing it in the hamper. In a last minute flash of brilliance, he even changes the sheets. They probably should be switched out this weekend anyway, and if he’s gonna have company in bed, it might as well be now. Dean’s just getting around to tidying the kitchen a little when the buzzer by the front door goes off. The place looks…passable, which he’s hoping is sufficient, and then there’s no time to care if it isn’t because he’s buzzed Cas up and he’s gonna be here any second and…

“Hi,” Dean says as he opens the door. Cas is standing there looking just as delicious as ever in ripped jeans that hang low on his hips and a tight black t-shirt that shows off every angle of his toned chest. The contrast between his gorgeously tanned skin and the bold, black lines of his tattoos is even sharper and more intense in person than it is on film, and Dean has a very strong urge to trace every millimetre of ink with his tongue. He’s wearing his lip ring tonight, a silver thing that gleams in the light as he looks Dean up and down. He’s got a jacket slung over his shoulder and a bottle of whiskey in his other hand, and he’s looking at Dean like he’s going to fucking devour him.

Dean is so fucking down for that.

“Hey,” Cas replies, brushing oh so close as he walks into the apartment. He toes off his shoes in the entryway and gives the apartment a cursory glance but it’s immediately clear that there’s only one thing in the room that he’s got any real interest in. Dean rubs a hand across the back of his neck, suddenly incredibly self-conscious about this whole thing. What the hell was he thinking? This is going to be awkward as fuck and he’s going to embarrass himself and…

Dean stops thinking completely when Cas’ lips crash into his own.  He lets out an undignified, hungry noise as he finds himself backed up against the wall and held there, and then it’s decidedly _not awkward at all_. Who needs small talk when the literal embodiment of your fantasies is crowding you up against a wall and giving you all sorts of bad ideas?

Cas, quite predictably, takes the reins and doesn’t let go. He’s fierce and hungry and aggressive, and there’s not a single second where Dean has any desire to deny him. He pins Dean’s arms to the wall above his head and kisses him deep and filthy.  Dean kisses back as good as he’s getting, and he might struggle a little, but really only just to see how firmly he’s held. He has no intentions of going anywhere.

“Glad you got in touch,” Cas murmurs darkly. He pulls his mouth away from Dean’s lips and kisses across his jaw, nipping at his earlobe and dragging the heat of his breath down Dean’s throat.

“Fuck yes,” Dean groans. Cas releases his grip on Dean’s wrists so he can touch elsewhere, brush a thumb across a nipple through his t-shirt, slide a hand over his hip to grip his ass. Dean takes the opportunity to do some touching of his own. He gets a hand on the back of Cas’ head and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling him in close so that when their mouths meet, it’s deep and hot and messy. Cas groans against his mouth and fits a knee between Dean’s legs. Their bodies fit tightly together, Dean’s already hard cock trapped against Cas’ hip, Cas’ dick rutting against Dean with every movement.

“The things I’m gonna do to you,” Cas says, and it is both a promise and a threat. He backs away just enough to pull at the hem of Dean’s shirt, and Dean takes the hint and draws it off over his head. No sooner is he bare from the waist up than Cas is leaning in to lave his tongue over a nipple, teasing it to hardness before pinching it roughly between his teeth. Dean sucks a sharp breath in reply, letting his head fall back to thud heavily against the wall. Dean wouldn’t have expected to like this, the way his teeth pinch and scrape, the way his tongue soothes it before starting again, but the contrast in sensations makes his head swim in the most fantastic way. . Cas gives the other nipple the same treatment while Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ messy hair, revelling in the delicious pleasure-pain as the other man’s teeth nip almost too sharply.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Dean realises they’re still in the entryway despite the fact that there’s a whole apartment full of surfaces they could be sitting or lying on right now. Abandoning Cas’ jacket and the bottle of whiskey that are both lying forlornly on the mat, he grabs Cas’ hand where it rests against his hip and tugs on it, pulling the other man behind him as he makes his way deeper into the apartment. He briefly considers making for the couch but changes direction at the last second and pulls Cas towards the bedroom. Cas comes along willingly, laughing, and when Dean stops just inside the door to the bedroom, he turns to find Cas’ face lit up in a wide smile.

“What’s so funny?” Dean queries, perplexed, but Cas just draws him in close by their still joined hands and kisses him breathless, hands roving over Dean’s skin.

“Just appreciate the enthusiasm is all,” Cas assures him before breaking away to shed his own shirt, giving Dean his first close-up look at all the ink on his torso. Dean reaches out to touch and Cas leans into his hands willingly, letting Dean greedily explore the lines of his body. He hums softly and presses his mouth to Dean’s again, letting his hands fall to the waistband of Dean’s jeans. The whole time Cas fumbles with Dean’s pants, their mouths are locked in a hot and messy kiss, and they don’t break away until Dean’s jeans and boxers have been pushed to the floor. Then he’s working on his own pants, unzipping and unbuttoning but not quite pushing them down yet. Dean takes notice and skims his hands over Cas’ taut stomach to tease at the waistband of his underwear. He’s got no intention of taking this slow, pushing his hand into Cas’ shorts and taking hold of his cock, stroking the hot, hard length with clear intent. Cas moans against his mouth, rocking his hips into the friction, and Dean’s brain feels like it’s going to explode because sure enough, he sounds even hotter in person.

Still stroking Cas firmly, Dean steps out of the pool of his own jeans and drops to his knees. He’s fantasized about getting his mouth on Cas’ cock for a very long time, dreams and daydreams alike, and now he actually gets to. The thought of it makes his mouth water,. He glances up to catch the look on Cas’ face, all heavy lidded eyes and parted, spit slick lips, and then lays his tongue against Cas’ balls and licks slowly along the underside of his cock, right up to the tip. Cas’ breath catches but he doesn’t move, just lets Dean take him into his mouth at his own pace. He’s bigger than Dean’s had before, there’s no doubt, but not more than he can handle. He gets his lips wrapped around the tip and slides down maddeningly slowly until the head of Cas’ cock is nudging at the back of his throat. He works the rest with his hand, stroking firmly in time with his lips as he begins to bob and suck.

Dean works up a good rhythm, until the room is filled with the slick sounds his mouth makes and the soft noises of pleasure Cas gives up in reply. He gets his other hand in there to fondle Cas’ balls and stroke over his perineum, and every little moan he gets just serves to excite him further. After a while, Cas brings a hand up to cradle the back of Dean’s head and guide his mouth exactly where he wants it. Dean isn’t about to complain, not with the gentle way Cas touches him and how amazing Cas’ dick feels in his mouth.

And it does feel amazing. It’s heavy on his tongue, the bitter taste of precome making Dean dizzy with desire. He gets really into it, his moans muted by the cock stretching his lips open, and he’s actually kind of disappointed when Cas pulls him away and urges him to stand back up. Cas kisses him again, licking into his mouth, gripping his ass firmly with both hands before steering him back towards the bed. When Dean’s calves catch the edge of the mattress, Cas pushes until he loses his balance and tumbles backwards.Cas climbs up after him, settling a knee between Dean’s thighs and leaning over to work his mouth over Dean’s chest, trailing hot kisses towards his leaking cock.

  


Dean hisses as Cas takes him in and wastes no time swallowing him all the way down. His nose brushes the soft curls of hair on Dean’s pelvis and Dean can feel his throat working around the sensitive head. It’s so intense he lets out an involuntary curse, more groaned than spoken.

“Fuck, Cas.” It comes out strained and breathless, like it’s taking all Dean has just to form the words, probably because it is. Cas just hums appreciation and pulls back to swirl his tongue around the head, then grabs Dean’s hand from where it’s clawing at the sheets and puts it on the back of his own head, urging Dean to show Cas what he likes.

Dean moans in appreciation, carding his fingers through Cas’ perpetually messy hair. His mouth is sinfully skilled and normally Dean would be more than happy to guide his partner towards his favourite moves, but everything Cas does already feels fucking amazing. For a while, he loses himself in the intense heat of that mouth, and at some point he kinda stops caring if he even gets fucked tonight, because this blow job? Possibly the best he’s ever had. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; Cas is basically a professional cock sucker. He damn well should be good at it.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter whether Dean is content to settle for getting his dick sucked, because Cas pushes a slick finger between his cheeks and starts to circle his rim with a fingertip.  That’s how amazing the blow job is; Dean didn’t even notice Cas digging around to retrieve the bottle of lube from his nightstand. Dean makes a needy sound, nearly a whimper, when Cas’ finger breaches his hole for the first time, and Cas hums around the dick in his mouth. He’s surprisingly gentle considering how aggressively Dean has seen Cas perform on screen, but then he supposes at least some of that has to be acting. This, the enthusiastic blowjob and the careful fingers stretching him open, that’s all Cas.

It goes on forever; long past when Dean is stretched open enough to get fucked. Cas has pulled back to give teasing licks to the head of Dean’s cock as he buries his fingers in Dean’s ass. Eventually though, when Dean is whimpering breathlessly, tangling his hands in the sheets and basically just writhing in ecstasy, Cas decides it’s time to get down to business.

“You got condoms?” Cas asks, pulling off of Dean’s cock to speak. Dean gestures towards the nightstand, finding that he’s temporarily incapable of speech. Cas just laughs and leans back to pull the drawer open, fumbling for the box of Trojans and pulling one out one handed. Eventually, he’s forced to stop fingering Dean’s ass, making Dean sigh at the loss of that glorious full feeling, but he knows he’ll get something even better than Cas’ fingers soon.

Cas rolls the condom onto his cock, giving it a few quick strokes as he stands over Dean, eyeing him up in a way that is decidedly unwholesome.  It sends Dean’s mind flying back to all his favourite moments in Cas’ films. He thinks about Cas holding his partners down with strong arms, fucking them hard and fast, and he thinks about Cas lying back and letting guys ride his cock until they come all over his chest, and he thinks about the few times he’s watched Cas bottom, the way Cas’ mouth falls open when he takes a cock in his ass. Mostly though, Dean thinks about how fucking glorious it’s going to feel to have that cock stretching _him_ open. It’s a bit difficult to wrap his head around, really. They say you’re not supposed to meet your heroes, but they never say anything about meeting the object of your filthiest fantasies.

Growing bolder, Dean’s mouth gets the better of him. “You just going to stand there staring,” he snarks, rolling his hips seductively, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

“You better watch that mouth of yours,” Cas warns, climbing onto the bed and pushing Dean’s thighs up, exposing his ass so he can rub the head of his cock over Dean’s hole. “It’s gonna get you into trouble one of these days.”

“I hope so,” Dean shoots back, but he doesn’t get the chance to run his mouth any more than that. Cas pushes the head of his cock past Dean’s slick rim and bottoms out in one long stroke, stealing the words right out of Dean’s throat and replacing them with a filthy moan straight out of one of Cas’ films. The stretch is amazing.  Dean feels so fucking full, and he must look like a blissed out mess because Cas just grins broadly as he folds Dean nearly in half and begins to give him the fuck of his life.

Dean can’t decide what’s more awesome: the huge cock filling his ass up and fucking him open, or the sinfully gorgeous man it’s attached to; the one who’s holding Dean down and staring down at him like he wants to devour him. It’s fucking amazing, seeing that kind of want in someone’s eyes when they look at him. It’s nearly overwhelming, and combined with the fact that this is the man that Dean has thought about almost every time he’s jacked off in the past couple of years, it means that even though they’re just getting started, Dean is already entirely certain this is going to end up in the top five sexual experiences of his entire life. It might even take number one.

Real life, as Dean has previously noted, is not like porn. Now he has confirmation of that, but in this case the distinction works in Dean’s favour, because this is actually way better. Porn is all about looking good for the camera, not about what feels really good for your partner. Where on film Cas might only do exactly what was scripted or what he knows looks good from a certain angle, here and now he’s just so goddamn attentive it’s kind of crazy. They get down to fucking, really fucking, and Dean clings to Cas like his life depends on it.  Instead of muttering something appropriately filthy, Cas leans down to kiss him, lips just barely brushing against Dean’s because this is not a way he is meant to bend, and Cas notices.

“Are your hips ok? Is this position good?” he asks, slowing his pace as he speaks.

“Maybe not quite bendy enough for this,” Dean admits. Cas drops one of his legs (which Dean promptly wraps around Cas’ waist) and hooks the other over his elbow instead of his shoulder.

“How’s this?” He leans in again, kissing Dean deeply, which he can do now because Dean can totally bend this way.

“Fucking awesome,” Dean replies emphatically. There’s friction on his cock now, trapped between his own abdomen and Cas’, and yeah, this _is_ fucking awesome.

“Good.” Without another word, Cas starts driving into him with long, tantalizing strokes. Dean doesn’t know how he’s got this much patience. If he were in control (which he’s not, and _oh god_ is it nice to be manhandled like this) he’d be hard pressed to do anything other than impale himself on Cas’ cock, desperately chasing his orgasm without any mind for drawing the moment out. Maybe it’s because Cas is a literal pro or maybe he’s just not desperate for it like Dean is, but he seems totally calm and collected. Not unaffected, mind—he’s groaning with every breath, his mouth hanging open as he slides in and out—but definitely in control.

Dean can’t help but notice that the noises he makes are a little bit more reserved, a little bit less exaggerated than the ones he makes on screen. They’re the same sounds though, the same throaty moans and grunts Dean is used to hearing through his computer’s speakers. And it’s—fuck, it’s just so good. He’s not going to last long like this, with Cas filling him up and the press of their bodies rubbing his cock with every thrust. Dean doesn’t want it to end, but he can already tell it’s going to be fucking intense when it does. Cas is hitting all his buttons without even trying, and aside from that he’s just about the hottest guy Dean has ever been in the same room with, let alone fucked.

“Fuck,” Dean groans. “Just like that.” Cas rises up and pulls Dean towards him by his thighs, changing angle to hit Dean’s prostate and starts fucking him harder, faster. Skin slaps on skin as their bodies collide.

“C’mon Dean,” Cas demands, “you gonna come for me? Touch yourself. I wanna see you come.” He slams into Dean over and over, thick cock filling him up and pushing him ever closer to the inevitable edge. Dean can’t help but comply, not when Cas sounds so fucking sexy talking like that. He lets go of the sheets he’s clutching and grabs his own cock, thumbing through the precome on the head and jacking himself loose and fast. “Fuck yeah,” Cas grunts approvingly. “So fucking hot.”

It doesn’t take many more thrusts before Dean is coming with a shout, hot spurts spilling over his hand to land on his chest and stomach. Cas slows down to fuck him through it, watching intently as the last drops land on Dean’s belly, then speeds up again, railing him hard. Dean is making these little fucked out noises, aborted half-moans that he can’t keep in but can’t form into real sounds either. Then, so suddenly that Dean barely recognizes what’s happening, Cas pulls out, and whips the condom off. He jerks his cock quickly groaning as he comes all over Dean’s face, hot white streaks landing on Dean’s lips, his chin, his throat. Dean moans, a filthy, dirty sound, because how often do a guy’s dirtiest dreams come true, and he didn’t even have to ask.

“Fuck,” Cas groans. “I’m sorry. That was so fucking rude. I didn’t even ask.”

“No,” Dean assures him. “It’s cool. Totally cool.” If Dean had access to more than one or two brain cells at present, he’d tell Cas it’s more than cool, it’s fucking awesome, but he does not currently have that ability.

“Let me get you,” Cas glances around the room, “a towel or something. Shit. I’m sorry.” He’s out of the room before Dean can get another word in edgewise. He returns a moment later with a clean towel out of Dean’s bathroom, smiling sheepishly as he tosses it at Dean. Dean isn’t anywhere near as affronted as Cas seems to think he should be, but he takes the towel anyway. By the time he’s done wiping his face down, Cas has disappeared from the room again.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes with a sigh, collapsing back onto the bed. He should have known Cas would disappear pretty fast after they finished—but this? Disappointing. At least Dean got an amazing fuck out of it. He thinks briefly about bounding out of bed, catching Cas while he’s still redressing in the living room and explaining he’s not upset about the money-shot, but he figures his legs are far too weak to carry him steadily right now and he’d probably just make it awkward anyway.

“Hey,” comes Cas’ voice from the doorway. Dean’s head snaps up, a little confused.

“I thought you left,” he admits with a laugh he will never admit is relieved.

Cas scoffs. “No way. I just went to get this.” He holds up the bottle of whiskey he brought with him. “Unless you wanted me to leave? I’d understand if you did. But I was kinda thinking we’d have a drink, and then I’d fuck you again.”

Dean props himself up on his elbows before inching back until he’s reclined against the headboard. “I could go for a drink,” he says, casual as he can manage. Cas laughs darkly, bounding onto the bed and settling himself next to Dean. He twists the top off the whiskey and takes a swig straight from the bottle, passing it to Dean as he swallows, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Good,” Cas says with a chuckle, his eyes raking over Dean’s body. They’ve only just finished round one, but it looks for all the world like Cas is already contemplating what form rounds two through ten are going to take. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to come scream at me about this fic or like basically anything else, I can be found on [Tumblr.](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) I welcome it. Please come scream at me.


	4. Dinner and a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean's inability to purchase proper foodstuffs leads to horribly inappropriate brunch conversation, and later, there are tacos that do not taste funny at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 11/20/2016  
> Now with _more_ fanart!!  
> [writehandman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writehandman/pseuds/writehandman) [(MooseInABoot on Tumblr)](http://mooseinaboot.tumblr.com/) has illustrated my favourite line (and a favorite of a lot of commenters too!), and since that line is in this chapter, it's embedded there!! You should check it out!

 

Okay, so. Yeah. Dean didn’t really expect this to go anywhere. ‘Cause when you get down to it, the whole thing is just about sex. Filthy, mind-blowing, four-times-in-one-night sex. Best Dean’s ever had. But still, just sex. Like, that’s it. They chatted a little over whiskey and a bit between rounds three and four, but Cas pretty much just woke up in the morning, collected his things, and disappeared out the door. So naturally the assumption was that he was also disappearing out of Dean’s life. And Dean would totally be ok with that. He wasn’t delusional enough to believe this was going to turn into, like, a thing. Wasn’t even expecting to see Cas again outside of his videos.

So imagine Dean’s surprise one week later when he’s lazing on the couch in his underwear and his phone rings, and it’s not Benny.

It’s Cas.

“Hey,” Dean says, hoping he sounds at least passably casual.

“Hey stranger. Big plans for your Friday night?”

Dean suppresses a laugh. His plans include as many hours of Breaking Bad as he can manage before passing out, and at least as many beers. Yeah, he’s a party animal. “Nothing exciting. What about you?” There’s no chance Cas is calling for sex, is there? No. There can’t be.

“Depends on whether you’re up for some company,” Cas answers cryptically.

“Sure,” Dean tells him.

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

And he is.

And it’s awesome.

And in the morning, he sticks around long enough for a cup of coffee.

It’s something.

Dean is less shocked when Cas calls again the week after that, and pleasantly surprised when instead of dressing quickly and beelining it for the door the next morning, Cas starts up the shower and suggests that Dean might want to join him.

He totally, totally does.

So like, by the fourth week in a row that Cas calls him up on a Friday night and not-so-subtly invites himself into Dean’s apartment (and his pants), Dean can probably be forgiven for thinking this might not be _just_ a sex thing. He’s not falling in love with the guy or anything, but he’s sure as hell thanking his lucky stars for that whole wrong number deal.

Dean walks out of the bathroom on Saturday morning to find Cas digging around in his fridge, making obnoxious noises and muttering in irritation. He gives up his search about the same time Dean walks in to the room.

“You have a frightening lack of actual food in your kitchen. I was going to make you breakfast but unless you like ketchup on rice, that’s not happening.”

“You were going to make me breakfast?” Dean repeats in confusion. That’s new.

“Yeah. You do eat, right?” Cas checks the fridge again just in case it’s miraculously filled with food in the past 20 seconds. The look on his face says he’s just as disappointed in Dean’s grocery shopping skills as he was before.

“’Course I eat.”

“Then put some damn pants on. Let’s go find a diner.” If Dean thought Cas was quick about undressing the night before, it’s nothing on the speed he applies to locating his pants and redressing now. As usual, his hair is a fucked up mess, and it’s somehow even sexier with the knowledge that it’s a mess because he’s gone several rounds with Dean over the preceding night instead of just because it’s always a mess. Dean manages to follow suit without too much grumbling. He generally does not like to leave the house without first having coffee. For an ass like that, though, he can make an exception.

Finding a diner proves no great challenge, though since it’s a weekend morning the place they choose is crowded and noisy. They claim chairs on opposite sides of a Formica table that’s likely older than either of them, accepting laminated menus from a chipper waitress who promises she’ll be right back with their coffees.

As Dean peruses the predictable list of diner fare, he comes to a startling realization. He and Cas have never had a real conversation. Oh sure, they’ve traded banter between rounds of sex, over drinks of whiskey taken straight from the bottle and over coffee in the morning, but all of that was little more than small talk. They’ve been fucking for a month now and Dean knows nothing at all about this man except he’s in the adult film industry and he really, really likes it when Dean plays with his nipples. He keeps his mouth shut while he decides between bacon and eggs or pancakes and sausage, but eventually the waitress is going to take their orders and then there will be nothing keeping them from it.

The chipper waitress returns with coffee and a notepad, jotting down their orders and smiling brightly as she glances between them. As she leaves, Cas stirs cream into his coffee and drinks deeply, then sets his mug down. “So,” he says, settling his elbows on the table and regarding Dean like he’s the most interesting thing in the room. “Aside from the fact that you watch enough porn to recognize my tattoos, I don’t know a whole lot about you. I assume you do things with your time other than critique adult films and pleasure yourself? Got a job?”

Dean tries not to choke on his coffee. He’s mostly successful. “Mechanic,” he sputters, coughing into his fist. “The garage I work at does custom restorations. It’s pretty cool. Other than that, I don’t really get up to much. My brother and his fiancé are planning a wedding right now so I get dragged into helping with that sometimes. I’m not exactly exciting.”

Cas shrugs. “You seem to do alright.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says dismissively. “What about you? What does a porn star do with his free time?”

“Well obviously, I send unsolicited dick pics to random numbers hoping someone hot will reply. It takes up a lot of my evenings but the payoff is well worth it.” Cas winks, a wry twist to his lips. “And technically, I’m an ex-porn star. Just in case you’re keeping score.”

“I was not aware of this,” Dean replies, intrigued.

“Yes. You are looking at the newest porn _director_ for Bad Angels Studios.”

“Well ain’t that something. Why the career change? Don’t tell me you got bored,” Dean implores.

Cas shakes his head. “Not bored, really. Just…” He waves his hand, searching for the word. “Unsatisfied. I mean, sure, physically satisfied. But I didn’t feel like I was actually accomplishing anything. I wanted to branch out. I’m fortunate enough that my name carries a bit of weight in the industry now, and because they can still trade on my recognition as a director they’re willing to let me try my hand behind the camera. Just did my first project last week.” He beams, clearly proud of his accomplishments, and Dean finds himself grinning along.

A thought strikes Dean unexpectedly. “That explains why there’s no new videos on your profile. When you uh—when you called that first time…well, I haven’t actually watched the last couple but I noticed there were only a few more after the solo one and they were released like, 3 months ago.”

Cas laughs out loud. “Oh seriously? That’s the last thing you watched? You’re missing out. The last one I did is outstanding. You really should watch it some time.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty proud of it.”

“Well I wanted to end it on a high note,” he explains. “So we did something a bit different. They called it _Six Ways From Sunday._ It’s me and a half dozen tops, like, an hour long fuckfest. It was so much fun.”

By this point in time, Dean’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. He knows they only ordered their food a few minutes ago but he’s silently wishing the waitress would show up right now. Anything to distract him from the mental images that Cas’ explanation is conjuring up. “Six guys?” he asks incredulously, keeping his voice low. Dean can just imagine the stares if he accidentally shouted something like this.

Cas nods confidently, clearly not as fazed by this conversation as Dean is. But then again, he lived it. Dean’s just hearing a story about it. If Cas isn’t weirded out by the conversation, maybe Dean has no right to be either. “You know what they say, if you’re gonna go out, you might as well go out with a gangbang.”

Dean nearly chokes. “That’s not a real phrase. Nobody has _ever_ said that before.”

“Yes they have. Me. Just now. I said it. Also, I believe I used that exact phrase when the studio suggested it. So there’s totally a precedent,” Cas tells him haughtily.

“Well as long as there’s a precedent. Honestly, I’m not sure I could handle watching that. Might be the porn that kills me.” Dean laughs nervously, shielding himself behind his coffee mug.

“Too hardcore?”

“Nah,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “I just…you know, this is probably gonna sound weird, but I actually haven’t watched any of your videos since the first night you came over. It feels kinda strange watching porn when I know one of the guys in it. And frankly, I’m thinking that watching you do that shit when I  know what it feels like to get fucked by you might be enough to make my head explode. That’s not how I want them to find me.”

“Yeah,” Cas muses dreamily, completely oblivious to Dean’s discomfort. “But what a way to go.”

\-----

It’s like the impromptu breakfast opened a floodgate, and now instead of never talking at all, Dean and Cas never stop talking. Cas is on set all week, he tells Dean in text messages, not as talent or a director, but as an expert _consultant_ , which basically just means he watches the proceedings and comments wherever he sees fit. It’s apparently quite boring. Dean doesn’t think he’d be bored, but then again, he’s never even been on set for a porn video, let alone starred in dozens of them, so his perspective is somewhat different from Cas’. Dean texts Cas a picture of the hot rod he’s working on rebuilding, explaining in vague details what they’re changing and what she’s going to look like when she’s done. Cas texts back a picture of the two stars of the production he’s consulting on in the middle of a take, and Dean stops opening Cas’ picture messages at work after that. He doesn’t delete the picture though. He’s not _that_ good.

\-----

“Come over tonight,” Cas said. It took Dean totally by surprise. He’s never seen Cas’ place. They always meet up at Dean’s place, and there’s never been any kind of conversation about that changing. Then again, Cas also usually waits until the middle of the evening to suggest a rendezvous, so this whole conversation was a little weird. Dean’s sandwich wasn’t particularly interesting when he started his lunch break but it got even less interesting when his phone rang, vibrating across the table. Cas texts him throughout the day plenty, but phone calls? That was new.

“Yeah, alright,” Dean replied, because sure, why not? What does it matter whose bed they fuck in?

“Show up at seven.” The call ended as abruptly as it started, leaving Dean a little confused. The afternoon was so busy that he barely thought about it though, and then he didn’t really have much time to think about it until right this minute, standing in the elevator on his way up to Cas’ apartment. He had delivery of a finished project car to deal with, and the guy was so incredibly exacting in his standards that what should have been a very quick inspection and hand-off turned into like, an hour. By the time he finally got out of the garage, there was just too much of a rush to get home, get showered, get changed and get going to even think about why Cas might have invited him over. Even now, the brief ride up to the seventh floor isn’t long enough to ponder it in too much detail. The building is fairly nondescript, pretty nice but nothing too posh, and it’s possibly the first time in Dean’s life he’s been in an elevator with actual elevator music. It takes him a couple floors to realize it’s an instrumental jazz version of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Weird.

“Hey,” Cas says with a smile when he opens the door, a dishtowel over his shoulder. Music drifts through the doorway as Dean makes his entrance, glancing around surreptitiously at the apartment. Cas has decorated the whole place in deep blacks and bold reds reminiscent of the tattoos that cover his upper body. He gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Dinner?” Dean repeats.

“Yeah, did I not mention that?” Dean shakes his head at the question. “Oh. Yeah, I made you dinner.”

“You definitely left that out. Any particular reason?” He takes the beer Cas hands him, leaning against the counter while Cas busies himself with whatever’s on the stove. Dean can’t see what he’s making but it smells damn good.

Cas shrugs. “It’s Friday?”

“It’s been Friday lots of times. Never invited me over for dinner before. Never invited me _over_ before.”

“Okay, you got me. I uh…I got copy of the project I directed. It won’t be released for another week or so but I was kinda hoping you’d watch the finished video with me? Seems like something I’d want company for.” He turns back to Dean, grinning sheepishly. “You’re one of the only people I see these days outside of the industry. I’d really appreciate it.”

“I see,” Dean says with a laugh. “And you thought that I’d need a bribe to agree to that? Me, a guy you met because of an unsolicited dick pic, who knows your work well enough to recognize your cock on sight, and you thought I’d need convincing.”

Cas shrugs. “Figured a bribe couldn’t hurt.”

“Can’t argue with that. So uh, what’s the protocol here? Am I supposed to like, critique the thing? Take notes? Is there gonna be a quiz after?”

“Not so much,” Cas says, turning back to the stove to lavish some attention on whatever he’s cooking. “Just keep me company, I guess? This film is kind of a big deal to me.  I know that sounds really weird because I’ve done lots of porn before, it’s just been…in front of the camera. This is different.”

“I get it,” Dean offers. “I mean, I don’t really because, well obviously. But I get why that would feel like a big deal. Can’t promise I’ll be entirely objective though. I know what I like, but I’m hardly an adult film connoisseur.”

“Just sit your ass down and watch the movie,” Cas says, pointing towards the couch in the living room. “Go. I’ll bring food in a minute.”

Dean takes a seat on one side of the couch, an overstuffed thing with thick cushions, and settles in comfortably. Or at least, as comfortably as he can. It’s strange being in Cas’ space, this sharply modern apartment with glossy framed photos of porn stars adorning the wall. His posture is maybe just a little stiffer than usual, eyes moving constantly as he tries to figure out what to focus on, and it’s a relief when Cas joins him a few minutes later with plates in hand.

“I’m not the world’s greatest cook,” he announces, half apology, half warning. “But I’m pretty confident in my ability to make tacos. So I made tacos.”

“I like tacos,” Dean assures him, taking his plate and setting on the low table in front of them.

“So the movie is nothing too exciting,” Cas explains. He fiddles with a laptop computer that’s hooked up to his TV, loading the video in question and flicking the input on the TV over. “It’s a couple guys I’ve done scenes with before and they’ve been in the business for a while, so they didn’t need a ton of directing. It was a good project for my first time behind the camera. Just…don’t expect anything fancy.”

“I’m not sure what ‘fancy’ would even mean in this scenario,” Dean laughs.

“Three-way?” Cas says with a shrug as he sits down. “Toys? Fetish stuff?”

“Toys are fancy?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be disappointed that it’s not some over the top spectacle and…”

“Stop.” Dean cuts him off. “We haven’t even started the thing yet. You don’t need to make excuses. I’m sure it’s super hot.” Cas just rolls his eyes and starts the film.

It’s so strange to Dean to think of Castiel as insecure about anything, but that’s exactly what he’s faced with. As the scene opens on the two actors fully clothed, sitting on a couch and having a falsely casual conversation like the one that starts so many porn movies, Dean can feel more than see Castiel casting furtive glances over his way, trying to gauge his response and looking for some sign of acceptance or approval. It’s so hard to reconcile this insecurity with the version of Cas that Dean sees on screen and the one that sent him nudes their first conversation.

It’s also difficult to focus on his tacos when there’s sex unfolding on the screen in front of him. Dean does not usually watch porn for any reason other than masturbation. It’s not background entertainment during a social situation and he’s certainly never sat down to watch porn while he eats before. Castiel doesn’t seem to have that problem, though he’s the one that’s apparently nervous about all this, so Dean really does try. He manages to get through his meal before the actors get down to actual fucking, but he can’t decide if that’s a win or not, because now he has no option but to politely watch porn for the purposes of an artistic critique. And he’s not really sure he can offer any constructive feedback anyway. Dean knows what he likes, but he definitely did not take any film study classes that would enable him to knowledgably discuss the merits of certain shot compositions or lighting techniques.

Castiel was correct in his assessment that the film is nothing groundbreaking, but it’s also not boring. The two actors are either really into one another or fantastic at pretending, because there’s chemistry and heat in their interactions that makes the scene much more appealing than your basic run-of-the-mill skin flick. They touch and kiss with enthusiasm, and while their reactions are all very expressive, they avoid campiness and that over-the-top exaggeration of so many low budget porn films. It’s definitely hot, and if Dean weren’t watching it for Cas’ benefit, he’d have his cock in his hand right now.

By the time the movie ends, a full forty-five minutes later, Dean’s cock is straining against his jeans and he feels hot all over. He’s managed to resist the urge to touch himself, but it’s only through sheer force of will and a magnificent kind of stubbornness. Sure, he’s probably getting laid tonight, but Cas is the one who put on a porno during dinner, so Dean refuses to be the one who decides when life starts imitating art.

“So,” Cas ventures carefully as the screen goes black, “what did you think?”

Dean laughs. “Well I’m no film critic,” he starts, earning a sharp glare from the director himself, “but that was pretty damn hot. It avoided being cheesy. Glad you didn’t do one of those _let’s pretend there’s actually a story here instead of just two dudes fucking_ kind of movies.”

“Yeah, I’m not really a fan of those either,” Cas admits. “But you liked it? It was good?”

“Yeah it was good!” Dean exclaims. “Look, I don’t know what the director of an adult film actually has to do, but I definitely didn’t look at that movie and think the person directing it must have been a first-timer, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s good. You’re good at this.”

To Dean’s surprise, Cas blushes. Actually blushes. This man, who has absolutely no shame at all when it comes to acts of a sexual nature, this man who is capable of being so blatantly, overtly sexual that it actually shuts Dean’s brain down on occasion, is rendered speechless and flustered by a few words of praise? They’ve spent enough time together that Dean knows his body pretty damn well, but it’s becoming incredibly apparent that he barely knows the man at all.

“Thanks,” Cas says softly. The smile that creeps slowly across his face makes him look years younger, shy and sweet and careful instead of brash and cocky and seductive. “It feels good to be doing something. I didn’t realize how empty my schedule would feel when I stopped filming altogether. The past few months have been kinda boring, actually. I’m hoping it’s successful and it turns into more work behind the camera for me.”

“I’m sure it will,” Dean supplies confidently. He reaches out for Cas’ hand, a completely unplanned and tender gesture. Maybe it’s the blushing that spurred him on, maybe the revelation of his insecurities is making Dean feel like this is more than a sex thing. He knows it’s not, but it’s easy to forget that when Cas lets his walls down and starts talking like this. It’s only human to respond in kind. Cas smiles again, wider this time, and turns towards Dean, leaning in to press their lips together in the least heated kiss they’ve ever shared. It’s soft and slow, the only time their mouths have ever met that wasn’t leading up to sex or directly in the afterglow. Dean finds himself melting just a little.

Cas is still smiling when he pulls away, only now the blush on his face seems to have transferred by osmosis and found a home high on Dean’s cheeks, and the smile is mirrored on Dean’s face too.

“I uh…” Cas murmurs, casting his eyes down to break the unblinking eye contact they’ve got going on. When his gaze returns there’s a bit more of his old bravado there, but Dean’s starting to recognize it as a shield. The confidence is like armour he wears, but it’s not the real Cas—or not all of him, at least. “The studio is throwing a party next weekend. Sort of a production release slash cast party slash we’re a porn studio why shouldn’t we throw a party kind of thing. I usually just go by myself and hang out with the other talent but. Um. I was thinking. If you’re not busy or whatever you could…” He shrugs, feigning disinterest, but Dean gets the distinct impression that for some reason this matters to Cas a great deal.

“I think I could make myself available,” Dean says with the same kind of casual disinterest that Cas pretends to have. Dean’s isn’t any more earnest. He’s far from disinterested. A party with a bunch of porn stars, with a porn star he’s maybe not-so-casually fucking? Not a shitty way to spend a Friday night all things considered. But the question on his mind now is this: what does a person even wear to a porn party?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That going out with a gangbang joke might be the funniest thing I've ever dreamed up. I'm way proud of it
> 
> If you would like to come scream at me about this fic or like basically anything else, I can be found on [Tumblr.](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) I welcome it. Please come scream at me.


	5. Nine Tenths of the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a party, a couple of cameos, and sadly, no Jell-O wrestling.

In the end, Dean decides it doesn’t matter what he wears because no one is going to be paying attention to him anyway. He’s going to be the nearly invisible normal guy, an outsider in a world of insiders, and nobody is going to look at him twice. Chances are that nobody he’s introduced to will even remember him beyond _that guy Castiel brought._ He still ends up changing his shirt like, seven times before he’s supposed to meet Cas, but Cas doesn’t need to know that. The shirt he eventually leaves the house in is his favourite Led Zeppelin concert tee, and while his jeans are not the fancy designer kind that some people seem to think are worth spending money on, Dean cleans up ok, really he does, so it’s probably going to be just fine.

Cas, meanwhile, is a little more dressed up than Dean expected. Perhaps he’s looking to cultivate a different image now that he’s working behind the camera.  Honestly, whatever the reason, Dean doesn’t mind. His dark jeans hug the curve of his ass in a very enticing fashion and the absence of a tie doesn’t make his shirt and jacket combo any less sharp. Dean briefly entertains the possibility that he’s underdressed for the occasion, right up until Cas grabs him by the hips and pulls him close, kissing him with no regard whatsoever for the people they’re sharing a sidewalk with. Between that and the dark and husky voice murmuring flattery into his ear, Dean stops worrying.

They take a cab to the party. It’s a little too far to go on foot and Dean’s not leaving his car out at some house in the ‘burbs if he can avoid it, plus Cas has announced with no shortage of glee that there’s an open bar at the party so…yeah. Taxi. When the ugly yellow car pulls up in front of the house – mansion – and Cas pays the driver, Dean’s hard pressed not to let his jaw hit the floor. He doesn’t want to be that star-struck asshole gawking at the fancy digs and losing his shit every time he recognizes someone he’s seen naked, but as far as first impressions go, it’s a little imposing.

“Come on,” Cas says gently, grabbing his hand and dragging him unceremoniously towards the door. “I’ll introduce you to some people. It’ll be fun.” Dean lets himself be hauled into the party with a wry smile. Cas’ enthusiasm is rubbing off on him already, starting to temper the apprehension. There’s nothing about the party that he’s afraid of, not really, but there’s still that small voice warning that he’s going to make an ass of himself or not have anything to contribute to conversations. Or that he’s going to be a total fanboy around Cas’ former co-stars and embarrass _Cas._

Fashionably late as they are, the party is already in full swing. There’s upbeat electronic music playing from somewhere deeper in the house and even in the spacious foyer there are clusters of people making conversation. There are also a few couples making out—which is to be expected at almost any house party anyway, but Dean is fairly certain he recognizes a few of them. Most of the names are just out of reach, and he’d have to get a clearer look at faces to be sure anyway. Cas waves at a couple of people he knows but doesn’t stop to make any introductions before leading Dean up a curved staircase to what looks like the main congregation of partygoers.

“Emmanuel!” cries an accented voice as soon as they step onto the landing, and Dean’s companion is accosted by a blonde man in the deepest v-neck shirt Dean has ever laid eyes on. Cas returns the man’s hug eagerly. “How have you been, my friend? It’s been too long.”

“It’s good to see you too, Balthazar.” Cas steps back from the hug, graciously ensuring Dean isn’t given the cold shoulder. “I’m good. I’m working behind the scenes now, you remember, so that’s been a bit of an adjustment. And you?”

“Ah, you know,” Balthazar says with a laugh. “Too many projects, not enough time. These things never change.” Balthazar seems to notice Dean for the first time. “And who is this charming creature? New talent, I hope? He’s got quite the look.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, Dean’s not in the industry. He’s um…he’s with me.” Dean makes appropriately pleasant noises as Balthazar shakes his hand, but he doesn’t really know what else to offer.

“More’s the pity,” Balthazar gripes. “Always on the lookout for fresh faces, you know. Well, if you change your mind Dean, do let Emmanuel know and he can put us in touch. We could start you out with something quite tame. Very tasteful, I assure you. Anyway, I must run. These things are always so much more work than play, aren’t they?” Balthazar is off with a wave, striding purposefully towards who or whatever his next mission is and leaving Dean staring after him in slack-jawed awe.

“Sorry, um, did that dude just offer to put me in porn?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. Why, are you considering taking him up on the offer?” Cas queries, a note of amusement in his voice. He’s leading Dean towards the bar with single-minded determination, picking his way through the crowd with ease.

“Uh, no. Totally not looking for a career change right now.  Besides, I’m happy with the one porn star I’m currently fucking. I don’t need to expand my network.”

Cas presses a beer bottle into Dean’s hand, a smile on his face that is remarkably fond. “Well,” he continues, shaking his head softly. “Heads up, probably won’t be the last offer you get tonight. These guys don’t know when to turn it off. Bal’s one of the least skeevy producers I’ve worked with over the years. Doesn’t mean he’s not still working an angle.”

“Duly noted,” Dean says with a nod. “Be on the lookout for stereotypes. Do you ever have problems switching back and forth between the names? Is your real name a closely guarded secret? Should I try to remember to call you Emmanuel?”

Castiel smirks. “It’s generally understood that most people don’t perform under their real names. Anyone I have any kind of professional relationship with is aware of my actual name, it’s just habit for some people to use performance names. Call me Cas or Emmanuel or whatever. I respond to either. Come on, let’s mingle.”

So they mingle. Cas introduces him to various party goers, onscreen talent and behind the scenes folk alike. There are lots of people whose work he’s familiar with and after the first instance in which he recognizes a face and immediately remembers what the guy looks like with a cock in his mouth, the shock lessens and he gets a bit smoother. They’re just people after all, folks who do a job and get paid for it and Dean just happens to have a whole lot of experience touching himself to the product of their efforts. And really, jacking off to their work is basically just complimenting them on a job well done, so there’s nothing lewd or unsavoury here. After he realizes this, it gets easier to look them in the eye and carry on conversations.

Dean finds it much easier to talk to the porn stars than he does the producers and directors. Mostly they’re just guys (and girls) like him, folks in the prime of life with a healthy sexual appetite and a whole list of life experiences that have nothing at all to do with fucking on camera. Any time he glances at Cas he seems amused, smiling broadly whether they’re engaged in the same conversation or adjacent ones.

He’s in a conversation with a guy who introduced himself as Miles when Cas excuses himself to go find the restroom. Earlier in the evening he might have had a moment of weirdness at being left unsupervised, but now that he’s found his footing Dean takes the salacious wink Cas gives him  in stride and returns to his chat. He knows Miles isn’t the guy’s stage name because he can place his face and while he just can’t call up what it is he _does_ go by, it’s not that. In any case, they’re not talking about porn, they’re talking about Dean’s work and Miles seems remarkably interested so it doesn’t really matter what films Dean does or does not remember him from.

Dean leans back on the couch they’ve claimed as he tries to paint a verbal picture of the ’56 Skylark he’s restoring these days. Miles nods at all the appropriate points and he gives the impression of hanging on every detail, so Dean lets himself ramble off a whole lot of shit about cars he’s worked on and cars he’d like to work on and his own car and pretty much everything else about cars. It’s about the time Cas returns from the restroom that Miles takes it upon himself to move just a little bit closer than the conversation requires, laying a hand on Dean’s forearm.

“That’s really interesting, Dean. I’ve always liked a man who’s good with his hands,” he offers suggestively. “Who did you say you were here with again?” That’s when Dean sees this conversation for exactly what it is.  His first instinct is to seek out Cas, who is thankfully just  approaching. Their eyes lock, and while Dean’s pretty sure his face is a mix of confusion and relief, something darker flashes across Cas’ in the instant before Dean stands up and goes to him. Miles’ face kind of falls, which Dean might feel bad about if he’d had any idea before this moment that the guy was interested in him for something other than his mechanical know-how. Not that he finds Miles unappealing or anything. But realistically, Dean was just being friendly. He’s not interested.

“Hey,” he says sheepishly when he reaches Cas’ side. “I was just chatting with…oh.” When he turns to point at Miles, Dean finds that he’s already vacated the seat and disappeared into the crowd, but something else catches his eye. “I know that couch,” he announces.

“I bet you do,” Cas says with a throaty laugh. “I’m fairly familiar with it myself.” Dean doesn’t know how he didn’t recognize the massive purple thing while he was sitting on it, but it’s definitely the same couch from that video of Cas’ that he likes so much, the one where he folds the leggy blonde in half. “We filmed that here, obviously. The house belongs to one of the producers I work with regularly. Haven’t seen him yet tonight, though. He’s around here somewhere.”

“If I meet him, is he going to try to get me in front of the camera too?” Dean asks sarcastically. “Because I’m running out of polite ways to say I’m not interested in a film career.”

“Tell you what,” says a new voice, and Dean and Cas both snap their heads around to find a short man with the ugliest Hawaiian shirt Dean has ever seen standing beside them, a wineglass in his hand and a smirk on his lips. “You convince Emmanuel to get back in front of the camera for me, and I won’t try to recruit you.”

“You know I’m retired, Gabriel,” Cas says, his long-suffering and weary tone suggesting that he’s said this a thousand times before. “I direct now, and consult. I’ll do either of those things on whatever production you want me on. Emmanuel Milton is done.”

“That’s a shame,” Gabriel muses. “I have this project that would have been perfect for you, and I can’t find anyone who’s got quite the same charisma. It’s not going to be as good without you. You sure I can’t talk you into one last hurrah?” Castiel opens his mouth to repeat himself, but is forestalled by Gabriel barrelling ahead. “Don’t answer me right now. Think about it. Let me email you the details and you can consider it before answering. It won’t be the same without you, and you know I’d totally make it worth your while.”

“Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, Gabriel is the producer who owns this house, as I was telling you.”

“Quite the party,” Dean says, shaking his hand firmly. He’s already decided he doesn’t like the guy, though it’s unreasonable of him to be this protective of Castiel. He’s a big boy, he can fight his own battles. He doesn’t need Dean being rude to people on his behalf.

“It’s pretty tame, actually,” Gabriel replies with a sigh. “Usually there’s Jell-O wrestling in the back yard but they were all out of cherry and I refuse to compromise my principles. Still, good crowd. Anyway, I mean it,” he carries on, inclining his head towards Cas. “Think about it. And if your boy-toy decides he wants in, you make sure it’s my card you give him. You two should come do some shots with me and my girls.”

“We were actually just leaving,” Dean interjects. “Kinda tired. This whole thing is a little overwhelming, you know? Thanks for the hospitality though.” Dean moves as if to walk away but leaves it to Cas to lead, which he does after making platitudinous apologies to Gabriel. When they’re out of earshot, Cas visibly relaxes.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes.

“We don’t actually have to go,” Dean explains. “I’m fine. But you clearly did not want to have that conversation and I don’t give two shits what Gabriel thinks so let him think I’m rude, I don’t fuckin care.”

Cas shakes with laughter. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Hey, I may not know the logistics of porn, but I know people. So what’s your call? We having a spontaneous change of heart and joining Gabriel and his girls for shots, or are we beating a hasty retreat?”

“Oh, we’re leaving. If Gabriel is going to spend his evening trying to convince me to do just one more film while he continues to get drunker, I want to be far, far away before the tequila shots come out.”

It’s earlier than Dean originally thought they were going to leave so neither of them is particularly drunk, but Cas is still pretty handsy on the cab ride back to his apartment. Even though Cas hadn’t officially invited him to come spend the night after the party, there’s little doubt in Dean’s mind that that’s exactly where they are heading. He pays the cab driver and lets himself be manhandled into the elevator and pushed roughly against the back wall as soon as the door closes. Cas maneuvers his knee between Dean’s thighs and presses their bodies together, warmth radiating between them, then kisses Dean like it’s going out of style.

“You don’t mind leaving early, do you? You seemed like you were having a good time.” Cas murmurs the question when he pulls away from Dean’s lips to nip at his throat, sucking a deep mark into the skin. Dean opens his mouth to answer, but a heady groan spills out instead of words and he has to take a moment to collect himself.

“Sure, it was fun,” Dean says when he regains his grasp on the English language. Cas hasn’t stopped with that damn mouth of his, nibbling and kissing at Dean’s throat while he waits for an answer. All the while, his busy hands roam, and its goddamn distracting. “This is fun too. I don’t mind that we left.”

Cas hums in agreement. The elevator door opens with a ding and he backs out into the hallway, his hands still on Dean’s hips to drag him along behind. After a few futile attempts to open his apartment door one handed and backwards, he finally stops kissing Dean long enough to defeat the lock and fling the door open. Then he’s back at it, drawing Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, hands cupping Dean’s jaw to hold him just so, leading Dean toward the bedroom without even pausing to kick his shoes off. Dean tries to rid himself of his own shoes and his jacket, but Cas just keeps pulling him along and eventually Dean gives up and lets himself be dragged. It’s Cas’ bedroom. If he wants shoes tossed all over the floor, that’s his deal. He focuses instead on freeing Cas from his jacket. It goes fairly well until he gets it off of Cas’ shoulders, when Cas won’t let go of Dean long enough to get his arms out of the sleeves and ends up trapped there.

“Gonna have to let go eventually unless you wanna do this with our clothes on,” Dean reminds him gently, and it’s all he can do not to laugh at the dejected whimper Cas makes in response.

“Fine,” he replies petulantly. “If you insist. But I expect you naked and on my bed in record time. No fucking around. I mean it.” He moves back a half step and drops the blazer, already going to work on the rest of his clothing by the time Dean catches his balance and starts shedding his own clothes. His boots get tossed near the door, jeans and t-shirt in a pile somewhere near the closet, and he doesn’t actually notice where his socks and boxers end up but really, who cares? It’ll be daylight by the time he leaves. He can figure it out then.

Cas is faster than Dean even though he’s got shirt buttons to contend with. Maybe it’s practice. Maybe he’s just really fucking motivated. Whatever it is, he’s standing there with inked arms crossed over his naked chest watching Dean divest himself of the last of his clothes, and he practically pounces when the last sock falls. Dean gets spun around and launched backwards onto the bed, landing with a bounce. He barely gets a chance to shift himself closer to the center before Cas climbs up after him, crawling up Dean’s body with his eyes raking over every inch of skin laid out before him like a feast. He drags his lips up Dean’s stomach before latching onto a nipple, rolling it between his teeth for a moment and then biting down, harder than he’s ever bitten Dean before. Dean’s sharp cry becomes a moan as Cas’ tongue soothes the reddened nub before he does it again, less painful this time because it’s not so much a shock and maybe also a little bit because Dean liked it. Just maybe. He does the same with the other one, nibbling and biting and licking until he’s got Dean arching up off the bed, clutching at Cas’ shoulders and completely failing to contain the breathy noises each bite conjures up.

“Should have known you’d be popular,” Cas muses darkly. His mouth crashes into Dean’s as a knee slips between his thighs. Dean can’t help but grind against Cas’ leg, but that’s probably exactly what Cas had it mind so he doesn’t fight the urge. Doesn’t even try. “Gorgeous guy like you in a room like that? Like catnip.” He mouths across Dean’s jaw and leaves a trail of hot kisses down his throat. When he reaches Dean’s collarbone the teeth come out, and before long there’s a bruise blossoming on Dean’s skin, evidence of Castiel’s passion painted there, bright and bold and eye-catching.  Castiel just keeps moving lower, leaving more marks and pulling more sounds out of Dean. He moves with single-minded purpose, not even pausing to examine his work before continuing on to the next spot. Dean can feel Cas’ lips curling up into a wicked smile when he moans his pleasure, the slightest shift against his skin providing proof that Cas is getting exactly the response he was hoping for. Well, almost exactly.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hot you are, do you?” Cas asks, bemused, and dips his tongue into Dean’s navel. He leaves wet kisses in his wake, moving lower even as his question hangs in the air. Dean struggles for a moment to decide if it’s rhetorical or not before gasping out a response.

“I don’t… _fuck!”_ Dean interrupts himself as Cas licks a bead of precome from the head of his cock, peering with patently false innocence through fluttering eyelashes. “I’m just some guy,” he breathes, voice raw with desire. “Nothin’ special.” He reaches down to card fingers through Cas’ hair as he sinks down to mouth at Dean’s balls.

“Bullshit,” Cas challenges between kisses. “You’re plenty special.” His tongue drags up the underside of Dean’s cock and then it’s gone, just a hint of pleasure yet to come. “Certainly got my attention.” He sinks his teeth into Dean’s inner thigh, biting and sucking until a large bruise forms, rising up from beneath the skin to adorn him in lovely dark blues and purples. Dean groans, the pleasure and pain a heady mix as they rage through him, and as he’s made no move to stop the pattern of marks being laid on his skin, Cas does it again, near enough that the bruises overlap.  “Gorgeous,” Cas murmurs. It’s unclear if he’s talking about Dean or the marks he’s left behind on Dean’s skin.

Cas takes Dean’s cock in a lazy grip and strokes him almost absentmindedly, his mouth and his attention focused elsewhere. With his other hand, he pushes Dean’s leg up and bites the curve of his ass. Dean yelps, the noise quickly deteriorating into a sigh as Cas coaxes a bruise up to the surface and traces the point of his tongue around the spot. Dean will be covered with the things before Cas is done, a haphazard map of affection across his body, and if it feels a little like he’s being claimed then maybe he’s kind of okay with that.

Several minutes (and several bruises) later, Cas takes his hand away from Dean’s now-swollen dick and grabs both of Dean’s hands, guiding them to grip his own legs and hold them up tight to his chest. Cas spreads his cheeks and licks tentatively across the tightly furled muscle of his hole before pausing in silent question. He doesn’t start up again until Dean groans out a wrecked “ _Fuck yes!”_ Once permission is granted though, Cas shows no restraint. He teases Dean with gentle touches and tiny licks, making him moan and gasp, then plunges the tip of his tongue as deep as it will go, sloppy kisses that are anything _but_ teasing. Dean clings to his own legs for dear life, swept up in a tide of sensation that he’s helpless to resist, and thanks his lucky stars he was careless enough to leave his phone on that fateful night because this, right here? This is the kind of shit he fucking lives for.

Cas moves with intense purpose, licking Dean open like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing, and though his cock has been completely abandoned by all hands, Dean still feels like he could come any minute. The heat of Cas’ mouth is enough to send fire through his veins, enough to drive him nearly mad with pleasure, and he hasn’t even had the chance to get his hands on Cas yet.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Dean groans, resisting the urge to drop a hand from its death-grip behind his own knee and grab a handful of Cas’ hair. “But you gotta hurry up and fuck me.”

“Do I?” Cas smiles against his skin. “You’re not having fun?”

“Plenty,” Dean admits. “Not as much fun as I’d have with your dick in my ass though.”

Cas contemplates this for a moment, choosing to bury his face between Dean’s thighs and lave his tongue over that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Dean groans, and this time he does let go of his leg, reaching one hand down to grip Cas’ hair. A tiny nibble has Dean throwing his head back and moaning in pleasure, and it catches him completely off guard when Cas presses two lube-slicked fingers into his already wet hole, crooking them to jab at Dean’s prostate mercilessly.

“I don’t know….” Cas shows just a little mercy, twisting his fingers and thrusting them in much slower, staying away from overwhelming Dean’s prostate. “You sure you’re ready? I might need to open you up a bit more.” His tongue darts out to lap at Dean’s rim, still stretched around his fingers, and Dean just wails, totally at a loss for words.

“You fucker,” he gasps, when the ability to speak is again bestowed on him. “Jesus Christ! Stop being such a fucking tease and _get in me!”_

Cas laughs out loud, his breath hot on Dean’s skin, then backs away. Dean expects him to line up and drive home right away. Instead he gets Cas’ hands grabbing roughly at his thighs, flipping him over so he lands gracelessly on his belly. Dean gasps, not so much from the force of landing awkwardly but from the filthy thrill that comes from being manhandled so effortlessly. He doesn’t resist at all when Cas grabs his hips and pulls him backwards, propping Dean up on his knees and putting his ass on display.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Cas murmurs darkly. He rolls on a condom and then slides into the heat of Dean’s ass. He moves slowly enough to avoid hurting Dean but there’s still a glorious burn from the stretch of that cock splitting him open. It feels like forever before Cas is fully seated, hips flush with Dean’s ass. He draws back slowly, retreating until just the head of his cock is nestled between Dean’s cheeks, then pushes forward much more quickly. Dean groans, and Cas groans, and the air is full of their harried breathing and the sound of skin on skin.

“Shoulda known how popular you’d be,” Cas repeats, his voice darker now, syrupy and sultry with the sound of his lust. “Nobody I know could resist an ass like this. You don’t want them, though, do you?”

“No,” Dean whimpers his reply, clutching at the sheets. He toys with the idea of snaking a hand back to stroke himself but decides against it. Let Cas prolong this a bit more.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. All for me,” he growls. Cas pounds into Dean, hard and fast and relentless, and it’s so good, Dean doesn’t even care about getting a hand on his cock anymore. Cas fills him up so perfectly, searing away all thoughts except how fucking _incredible_ it feels. Arms braced desperately against the mattress to hold himself steady against the onslaught, Dean really doesn’t know how long he’s going to last like this. Not that it really matters. Even if Dean comes before Cas is finished with him, he’ll still find ways to make Dean feel good. And Dean’s not exactly averse to the idea of letting Cas use him for his own pleasure. Whether he’s hurtling towards orgasm or not, the feeling of Cas burying his cock in Dean’s ass over and over is pretty fucking spectacular. He’s not going to start complaining.

Cas, because he’s a literal professional at these things, takes the struggle out of Dean’s hands and places it squarely in his own. He drapes himself over Dean’s back, bracing on one perfectly muscled arm while the other wraps around to curl under Dean’s body. His touch is nearly as rough as his thrusts, which have not slowed at all during the switch in positions, and suddenly Dean isn’t even thinking about how long he’s going to last. It seems to him that Cas is trying to make him come as fast as possible. Dean doesn’t see any reason to fight it, so he gives himself over to the dual assault and lets Cas drive him towards the brink. Soon he’s coming hard, hot streaks coating his stomach and Cas’ hand alike, and Cas is still fucking him, still stroking his cock, and _fuck yeah._ Cas lets go of Dean’s softening dick and brings himself back upright to drive his cock in deep, gripping Dean’s hips again and smearing come across his skin as he goes. Dean whimpers, the only method left at his disposal to communicate his pleasure, and tries valiantly to hold himself steady. If he were any less boneless right now, exhausted and fucked out and barely holding on, he’d rock himself back to meet Cas’ thrusts, try to take him deeper and harder with each one. As it stands, he just hasn’t got it in him, but god, does it feel good to be fucked like this. And when Cas comes, his hips faltering and his hands squeezing tighter, Dean moans right along with him. He slams into Dean a few times more for good measure before pulling out and discarding the condom, but he’s only gone for a moment before climbing back onto the bed.

Dean has managed to roll himself over, collapsing onto his back and sprawling gracelessly across Cas’ bed. He hums contentedly when Cas drags the point of his tongue across one of Dean’s nipples, not even bothering to open his eyes—but they fly open to greedily take in the sight when Cas moves lower, running his tongue through the smear of come on Dean’s belly. He gazes up at Dean through his eyelashes as he cleans up every drop, fully aware of how fucking sinful he looks down on his knees like that.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dean informs him, just in case he wasn’t already clear on this.

“I thought about just grabbing you a towel,” Cas explains as moves to lie down next to Dean, still close enough to touch and tease in the afterglow, “but I thought that would be a little more fun.” He curls up against Dean’s side, warmth radiating between them as the clock on Cas’ nightstand flips over and proclaims that it is now two o’clock. They really didn’t stay that late at the party. It’s probably still going strong, Dean posits, and he supposes there should be at least some part of him that’s sorry for not seeing more of the event. He’s not though, not even a little bit, and not because of the sex, although it was certainly a welcome addition to the evening. Really, when he gets down to it, Dean didn’t go to the party because it was a porn industry party. He went because Cas wanted company, and the realization kind of surprises him.

He’s distracted from his introspection by Cas’ hand tracing a path through the series of bruises and bite marks left across his skin. “Sorry,” Cas offers sincerely. “I got a little carried away.”

“I don’t mind,” Dean tells him, and he really doesn’t. It felt good while it was happening. It doesn’t feel bad now that the endorphins are fleeing his system. “You’re the only one that’s going to see the marks anyway.”

“Oh really?” Cas inquires with no small hint of mischief.

“Well, yeah, I mean,” Dean stammers. He hadn’t intended the comment to mean anything. Now he’s stuck backpedaling. “It’s not like I’m, you know, currently sleeping with anyone else. It’s no big deal.”

“Me neither.” Cas keeps his head tucked so Dean can’t see his face, but there’s a hint of that secret shyness in his voice that Dean kinda loves because it means that he’s getting a look at the real Cas, the one that only select people ever get to see. “Or, me too. However you want to phrase it. It’s not like… I don’t have any expectations or whatever, but just so you know. I’m not. There isn’t.” He shakes his head softly like he’s trying to chase away the extraneous words. “It’s just you.”

Dean feels himself grinning, wide and stupid and gleeful in the dark. “Cool,” he replies casually. He feels anything but casual. “So are we like…”

“Dating?” Cas finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

“Well, yeah, if you want to. I mean, if it’s weird for you dating a former porn star I totally understand.” Dean takes it back. He doesn’t love the shyness anymore. He does not want the shyness if it means Cas thinks this thing makes him less worthy somehow.

“Why would that make it weird?”

“Nobody wants to date a porn star, Dean. Everybody wants to _fuck_ a porn star. We’re not relationship material.”

Dean is glad for the darkness in the room right now, because the face he makes at that comment is ridiculously unflattering. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“More than one ex-boyfriend. A couple of guys that could have been boyfriends. Co-stars. Basically everyone.”

“Cas,” Dean says softly. In his mind, he’s punching every single one of those assholes for making Cas feel like he was somehow less because of what he does for work. “That’s fucking bullshit. I know for a fact that’s not true.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas replies playfully, propping himself up on one arm to stare at Dean, who reaches over to flip on the lamp so Cas can see the honesty on his face.

“Yeah. Because I, personally, think it’s pretty damn awesome that the guy I’m dating is a porn star.”

“Former porn star,” Cas corrects, but he’s smiling.

“Whichever. It’s not why I’m here. I mean yeah, it’s definitely why we met in the first place because I never would have called you out for the dick pic if I hadn’t recognized the dick from your movies. But you’re just a guy, you know? What you do for work, or what you did, that doesn’t define you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas agrees. He rolls towards the edge of the bed and starts searching for something to cover his nakedness.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, confused.

“I’m fucking starving. I figured I’d go raid the kitchen and see if I can’t fix my boyfriend a snack, and then I thought I’d try to talk you into round two. Today feels like a day for celebrating, don’t you think?” He gives up on clothes and saunters out of the room stark naked. Dean watches him go with laughter on his lips, his dick already perking up for round two.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no respect for your boundaries, and also because Gabriel made an appearance in this chapter, have some unsolicited Dick (Speight Jr.) Pics.  
>   
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> 


	6. So Sexy It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas has somewhere he's supposed to be but would much rather be in bed with Dean, and Dean learns a thing or two about himself. Oh My.

One day, Dean is going to steal Cas’ phone when he’s not looking and change the alarm to something slightly less obnoxious. Either that, or he’s going to teach Cas how to get out of bed without hitting snooze twelve times. It’s unbearable. Absolutely deplorable. Nobody should have to be awake at this hour of the day and if they do, they certainly shouldn’t have to listen to the chorus of Right Said Fred’s _I’m Too Sexy_ a dozen times while they’re being dragged out of a pleasant sleep.

Somehow, Cas is still nearly dead to the world. This is why the alarm always gets set so long before he needs to be out of bed. It’s lucky porn isn’t a morning gig, because Cas is the polar opposite of a morning person. Dean never picked up on this when they were a casual thing because nobody calls their fuck-buddy over when they have to be anywhere in the morning. Now that they’re decidedly less casual, he’s learning how non-functional Cas is before 9am and several cups of coffee. The fact that his arm shot out from under the blankets to slap at his phone until the alarm stopped is truly surprising. He’s still basically comatose though, and he barely grunts when Dean tries to rouse him. There’s only one thing to be done for it.

Dean crawls his way down Cas’ body, wriggling under the blankets until he’s comfortably situated between his boyfriend’s splayed thighs. Even when they’re not fucking, Cas sleeps naked, and he’s been doing his very best to inspire Dean to do the same. So far, it’s working. His fingertips tease lightly over Cas’ hipbones and Cas squirms a little in his sleep, too far from wakefulness yet to actually register the sensation as pleasurable. He only just breathes out a sigh when Dean takes his soft cock in hand and strokes it with slow, determined patience, but when he’s hard enough and Dean’s lips envelop the head, he groans low in his throat and starts to come alive. The next time _I’m Too Sexy_ blares out from the nightstand, he’s awake enough to silence it for good. The phone drops back to its resting place and Cas’ hand snakes beneath the covers to grapple with Dean’s hair. Dean pulls off, giving Cas’ cock one last teasing lick, and crawls back up into the weak morning light.

“Hey, no fair,” Cas gripes, his voice thick with sleep and lust, “I was enjoying that.”

“I’m sure you were, but you have a flight to catch.” The reminder is gentle, but firm. Cas _does_ have a flight to catch, and as much as neither of them really wants to get out of bed, it’s non-negotiable. Being invited to direct a shoot on location in Phoenix is a big deal. He needs to be there.

Cas pouts, drawing Dean into a kiss. “I do, but I don’t have to be at the airport for like, two hours. And I definitely packed already. So there’s no reason we can’t finish what you started.” Before Dean can protest or pull away, Cas has him trapped in a tight embrace, hands pawing at Dean’s bare ass. He slips a finger between Dean’s cheeks, pressing the pad of one finger against his entrance. “You wanna…?”

“You know I do.” Dean melts under his touch, becoming pliant as Cas’ fingertip breaches him. “You won’t have time for coffee before your flight though.”

“Fuckin’ worth it,” Cas insists. He works Dean open quickly but carefully, pausing only to take the lube Dean fishes out of the nightstand before driving right back in. Dean likes it like this, in the heat of the moment. Loves it when Cas gets in one of these moods where he’s just gotta have it. Their sex is always good, always has been. Every single time is mind blowing and while there may come a day when that isn’t the case anymore, the current state of affairs makes it impossible to see that on the horizon. Sometimes Cas gets into these moods where he’s just insatiable, where everything Dean says or does just makes him want it more, and those are the times that are so good that just remembering them makes Dean weak in the knees. This kinda feels like one of those times. Cas holds him close as he pushes slick fingers into Dean’s ass, mouthing at his jaw and grinding their hips together. Despite the fact that Cas is the one pinned to the bed he seems to have all the power, and all Dean can do is writhe. Cas kisses his full lips, soft laughter slipping through, and asks if he feels like he’s prepped enough.

“Fuck, yes, just do it Cas,” Dean hisses, breath short and face flushed. Cas extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and sure enough, here’s where he gets a little pushy. He manoeuvers Dean to the edge of the bed so he can get him on his knees, bent over with his ass presented in the air. Cas knows how good this angle is, how much Dean gets off on the feeling of his cock buried that deep. He groans as Cas sinks in, keeping perfectly still until Cas’s hips are flush with his ass. Then he starts to wriggle, trying desperately to coax Cas into moving. Instead Cas grabs one of his arms, then the other, dropping Dean’s weight to bear his chest into the mattress, and traps his wrists at the small of his back. Then slowly, tauntingly, he draws his hips back and creeps forward, sinking in until Dean sighs with pleasure.

Cas pins him down and fucks him probably slower than they have time for. He has a flight to catch, and that’s important, but clearly so is taking his pleasure out of Dean’s willing ass. Dean wriggles and squirms against the restraint but his heart isn’t in it. Just a show of displeasure, just enough to register an inkling of protest. His breathy little moans tell a different story though and that’s the one Cas recognizes as the gospel truth. He’s right; Dean loves this. He loves the tease, loves it when Cas does exactly what he wants and he’s just dragged along for the ride. Everything Cas does feels amazing, so there’s no point in time that Dean feels like he needs to direct the action. He just needs Cas to fuck him, and if that means being pinned to the bed, then fucking pin him to the bed.

Dean is so undone by the whole scenario that he comes embarrassingly fast. He’s still shaking, absolutely quivering with it when Cas plunges in for a final time, shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. He doesn’t release Dean’s wrists for a long minute afterwards, still rocking their hips together in the aftershocks, still taking pleasure in the feeling of Dean’s hole clenching around him.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how much you liked that,” Cas tells him as he collapses to the bed.

“Liked what?” Dean says meekly. It’s feigned obliviousness and they both know it, but Cas plays along. He grabs both of Dean’s hands wordlessly, crossing his wrists and holding them there for just a second to make his point, then stares at Dean with an arched brow. “Oh. I um… yeah. That.”

Cas laughs darkly. “Yeah. That. I gotta go take a shower. You keep reminding me I have a flight to catch. But I have cuffs and some rope in the back of my closet, and when I get back from Phoenix, we’re gonna talk about how much I think you might like playing with those.”

“Dude!” Dean exclaims, chasing his boyfriend out of the room. “No fucking way!” Cas stops dead in his tracks, turning to face Dean with a knowing smirk on his face.

“You look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want that, and I’ll drop it.”

Dean stares him in the face, fully intent on doing just that. Except he fucking can’t.

His gaze slides away without another word, and Cas turns once again toward the bathroom.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Conveniently, the day Cas goes out of town is also the day Benny invites Dean out for drinks. He’s done so several times over the past few weeks, but Dean has been so wrapped up in this whole new boyfriend thing that he’s always had some reason to decline, so it’s with a mix of enthusiasm and guilt that he jumps at the invite. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that says he’s going to have to explain his precipitous drop off the map, but fuck, it’s gonna happen eventually anyway. He just hopes Benny doesn’t give him too much shit over it.

Benny is already seated at a corner table in the pub near Dean’s house when he gets there. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms and there’s a pint of dark amber lager near his elbow. He nods in acknowledgement when he catches sight of Dean making his way through the bar, signaling for the waitress to come back and take another drink order.

“How you been, brother?” Benny asks when the waitress departs. “It’s been a few weeks.”

Dean sighs, ashamed. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Things have been…interesting lately.”

“Hey, no judgement here,” Benny tells him. He takes a long pull from his beer, setting the glass down on a coaster before continuing. “I figured somethin’ was goin’ on. Been a while since we had a chance to really catch up but it’s been, hell, it’s been months since I’ve been able to talk you into anything messier. I figured there was probably someone you had your eye on.”

Dean makes an intent study of the pattern of whorls and knots in the wooden surface of the table, feeling his face heat. He had expected Benny to have questions, but he hadn’t banked on him having figured it out already.

“So spill, then. This guy must be somethin’ else.”

Benny has no idea how right he is. The waitress drops off Dean’s beer, takes their food orders, and saunters back off into the crowd, leaving Dean just enough stalling time to realize that now would be the perfect opportunity to tell Benny the whole story, not just the _yes I’m dating someone_ part. He buys a few extra seconds by tasting his beer but then the ball is in his court, and he really has no other choice.

“You’re not wrong,” he says with a wry chuckle and a shake of his head. “He’s definitely something else. Thing is, and I’m gonna need you not to laugh because this is 100% not a joke, but I kinda maybe accidently started dating Emmanuel Milton.” Dean watches Benny’s face for a reaction, then adds, “the porn star.” Just in case. Benny’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline and he makes a choking noise that is halfway between impressed and shocked. Well, maybe not halfway. It might be a bit more skewed toward the impressed side of things if Dean reads him right.

“You’ve gotta be fucking with me,” Benny pronounces with no shortage of incredulity. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope,” Dean says, shaking his head patiently. He can’t help the satisfied little grin that spreads across his lips. “Serious as a heart attack.”

Dean tells Benny the whole story. He tells him about the middle of the night text message and the dick pic and the sexting. He talks about doubting the identity of the sender until the thing with the cowboy hat and the popsicle. He tells him about Cas’ insistence that he was fair game for a booty call and he definitely admits to bailing on Benny to accept said offer. He feels a small sliver of apprehension at sharing that detail, somewhat worried that Benny will call him on breaching some obscure subsection of the Bro code. Surprisingly, this is the thing that seems to chase away Benny’s disbelief, and from this point on he’s listening with rapt attention instead of cautious cynicism. Dean tells him about hooking up with Cas in the broadest of strokes. Not because there aren’t some amazing details to share but really just because…the more Dean thinks about it the more he realizes that Cas is far, far more important to him than some hookup and it feels wrong to gossip about him like that’s all he is. So he glazes over all the specifics and just leaves it at _the sex is awesome._

“Well I don’t doubt that,” Benny laughs, draining his beer and waiving for another. “I’ve seen his movies. I wouldn’t expect him to be a slouch in the sack. Man, I tell ya, this is not the story I thought I’d be hearing tonight.”

“Not a story I ever thought I’d be telling. I mean, what the hell, right? How fucking weird. Never thought watching porn would have any kind of actual benefit on my life.”

“I hear that. Not sure what I’d do if…” Benny halts, choking on his own laughter. “Oh brother.”

“What?” Dean demands, eyeing his friend suspiciously.

“I just realized,” Benny tells him. “I know what your boyfriend’s dick looks like.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta be honest with you, I had no intention at all of this going to a Sub!Dean place when I started writing it, but then, I don't think Dean had any intentions of it going there either and we all saw how that turned out. 
> 
> Also, since she's mentioned it in notes on her fics, I wanna get in on the action and tell you that my stupidly brilliant beta [KreweOfImp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp/pseuds/KreweOfImp) and I are collaborating on a DCBB this summer! I obviously can't tell you anything about it at this point in time except that I wish it was already complete so I could share it with you. But I promise it's gonna be great!!! So in the meantime, if you like my writing, you should head on over and check out hers.


	7. Never Have I Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas totally has Dean figured out.

A whole week without Cas shouldn’t seem like such a big deal. It’s not that long. It’s just seven days. Seven days without Cas isn’t terrible in the grand scheme of things, especially considering how new their relationship is, but it seems like an eternity.

Dean makes it through the weekend but only by the grace of Benny’s good company and a Saturday hangover that threatens to end him completely. It’s amazing how that much suffering can distract you from the other kind of suffering, the kind that tells you there could be a body warming your cold, empty bed. He sleeps through most of it, lounges around on Sunday sending texts back and forth with the guy he is apparently head over heels for, and if a couple of naked selfies and dick pics are exchanged between Cas’ hotel room and Dean’s bedroom, well, that’s kinda how this whole thing got started anyway so it’s basically just par for the course at this point.

Monday and Tuesday are at least reasonably normal as far as work days go. Nothing out of the ordinary happens in the shop, he gets a decent amount of work done, and even though Cas is incredibly busy, he still finds time to send Dean text messages throughout the day. They’re just mundane little things, but it reminds Dean that there’s someone out there thinking of him, and it makes him happy. He’d rather Cas be there when he got home from work too, but it’ll do in the meantime.

Wednesday, though. Wednesday, Cas texts Dean around dinner time. He’s bored, because they’ve finished the first phase of the shoot and they’re doing…something with the set. Dean is unclear on what. The point is that Cas is not focused on porn, so he’s focused on Dean.

**We should video chat tonight. I have my laptop.**

_Don’t you have like, dinner meetings or some shit you have to do?_

**Not tonight, thank fuck. Nobody is expecting me anywhere until like, noon tomorrow. So you in?**

Of course Dean is in.  Of fucking course. Sure, it’s not as good as having Cas right here with him, but until he can pick up Cas at the airport and bring him home, it’s the next best thing. He sets his laptop up on the coffee table and fires up Skype, and within minutes he’s got a call incoming from Cas.

“Hey,” he greets Cas happily, watching a wide smile spread across the familiar face as soon as he sees Dean on screen. Dean’s pretty sure his own face is a mirror of that smile.

“Hey yourself,” Cas replies. “How was work?”

“Long day, but good. Finally got the fenders finished on that Skylark custom job. It’s gonna be beautiful when it’s done. How ‘bout you? Make some good porn?”

Cas laughs boisterously, his normally booming voice thin and tinny on the cheap microphone that’s built in to his computer. “Eventually. This guy we’ve got on set, he’s kinda new. Hung like you wouldn’t believe but cannot seem to keep his arm out of my fucking shot. I wanna tie his arms behind his back just to make sure I get some useable footage out of him but he’s the top, damnit, and this also isn’t a bondage scene so I just have to keep reminding the guy that I’m not interested in his hands while he’s fucking.”

“It’s a hard life,” Dean commiserates. “I honestly don’t know how you get through a day. I mean, seriously, watching people fuck for a living? What’s that word for when you have an erection that won’t go away and you’re supposed to see a doctor?” Even with the grainy quality of the video on his small laptop screen, Dean can clearly see Cas roll his eyes.

“Priapism. And really, when you’re watching from a director’s vantage, it’s less hot. Like, okay sure, it’s hot, but I’m not thinking about getting off when it’s happening. It’s different.”

“I’ll take your word for it. So you fly home on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Cas confirms. “I get in at ten pm.”

“So I gotta wait a whole…” Dean does the quick math in his head. “Fifty hours for you to fuck me?”

“Technically,” Cas confirms, inclining his head as if in thought. The camera picks up a glint of light reflecting off his lip ring as he moves. “Although…we can still have some fun. You don’t have anywhere to be tonight, do you?”

Dean shakes his head, intrigued. “Nah. Netflix did just upload a documentary about castles I was thinking about watching, but I guess it can wait,” he tells Cas with an exaggerated sigh.

“How magnanimous of you,” Cas replies, his voice flat. “Let’s play never have I ever.”

“Seriously? A drinking game?”

Cas shrugs. “I was thinking we’d skip the drinks and just play to strip. Just because I can’t fuck you doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun getting you naked.  Well…” Cas makes a guilty face. “Maybe not skip the drinks entirely. I already had room service bring up a bottle of bourbon. But we won’t be playing for drinks.”

“Alright, you got me,” Dean says laughing. “I’m getting a beer though. Feels weird to play party games without a drink.” Dean steps away from the screen, knowing full well that Cas is watching his ass on screen as he does, and retreats to the kitchen to grab a cold one out of the fridge. Cas is holding a tumbler of liquor when he returns, swirling the glass and letting the ice cubes clink with a mischievous look on his face.

“I’ll start,” Cas announces. “If you’ve done the thing I say I’ve never, you have to take off an item of clothing.”

“I know how the game works,” Dean tells him, long suffering.

Cas’ eyes narrow. “Never have I ever had sex with a woman.” He sips his drink with a smug look on his face.

“No fair!” Dean protests. “You know I’m bi!”

“It’s completely fair,” counters Cas. “Not only do you know a _lot_ of things I can’t say I’ve never done, you’ve seen me do them on a computer screen. If it’s unfair of me to use things you’ve told me, then my entire film career is inadmissible.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“It’s exactly like that.” Cas sets his drink down and waves his hand at the screen in an impatient gesture. “Quit stalling. Shirt off.” Dean grumbles but he complies, unbuttoning his plaid flannel and sliding his arms out of the sleeves before depositing it on the couch to his left. He’s still got a t-shirt underneath so he’s not really any closer to naked than he was before.

“There,” Dean grouses. “But I think that needs to be the rule. Nothing we know for sure. I can’t use shit I’ve seen you do on film and you can’t use things I’ve explicitly told you about. This should be a challenge. But since you got one freebie with the I’ve never had sex with women thing, I get a freebie too.” Cas nods agreement, and Dean nods back. He pauses for effect, making a show of thinking long and hard about what he’s going to lob at Cas in response. After an appropriately extended wait, he speaks. “Never have I ever had a threeway.”

Cas’ lips curl up into a wry smile. “Really? Never?”

“Nah,” Dean says dismissively. “Never really appealed to me. I’m more about the one on one.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums, pulling his own t-shirt off over his head and revealing the tattoos that allowed Dean to recognize him in the first place all those months ago. “I guess that’s fair. I think it’d be fun watching you try to keep up with two partners but if you’re not interested…” He trails off, eyeing Dean coyly.

“Uh…” Dean replies cleverly. “Let’s leave it at not anytime soon?”

“Duly noted,” Cas agrees with a laugh. “Okay, my turn. Never have I ever…worn women’s panties.”

Even with the grainy quality of the picture, Dean is pretty sure Cas can see the red hue to his cheeks. How could Cas possibly know? He thinks about answering in the affirmative and finds that he doesn’t really have the words to admit it so he lets his hands do the talking and strips his shirt off. He’s probably blushing all the way down to his chest. That’ll have to be answer enough for Cas.

The smug fucking bastard just smirks at him through the computer screen. “Well. Isn’t that interesting. Was this a one-time thing or do you still get the urge to wear something lacy from time to time?”

“Shut up,” Dean glowers, crossing his arms across his chest. He’s not pouting. He’s just not. “Just a fuckin’ lucky guess.”

“Hardly,” Cas corrects him, grinning mischievously. “There’s a pair in the nightstand drawer where you keep the lube. They looked about your size. I did the math. I bet that ass of yours looks fucking perfect in black lace. You should wear them for me some time.”

“You’d like that?” Dean asks shyly. “It’s not weird?”

“I definitely would. And it’s totally not weird. You’re talking to someone who’s spent years in the porn industry. I’ve met people who get off on all sorts of weird things. This is not a weird thing. If anything, I think it’s hot.” Cas is unbelievably smug as he sips his bourbon, and instead of being affronted about the whole thing Dean finds himself incredibly turned on. He hasn’t let anyone see him in panties in _years_ , but it always makes him feel sexy in a way nothing else does. It’s kind of a relief that Cas found the panties and that he likes the idea of Dean wearing them, because he does really miss the feel of lace against his skin.

“Did you set this whole game up so you could ask me about the panties?” Dean asks suspiciously.

“No way,” Cas insists. “Although I definitely would have asked you about them eventually. Curiosity would have gotten the best of me. Anyway, it’s your turn. Gimme your best shot.”

“Fine, okay. Um…never have I ever fucked someone I couldn’t stand.” Dean watches Cas’ face for any hint of a reaction but he’s unreadable.

“Nope.” Cas shakes his head firmly. “Not even once.”

“Seriously?”

“When I was newer, if they’d have put me with someone I didn’t like I would have either had to put up with it or bow out of the shoot. It never came up. There’s been a couple times in the past year or so that they wanted me to work with someone I didn’t like but it turns out that when you’re established, you can pull rank on things like that. It’s maybe a dick move but whatever. I’ve never had to fuck anyone on screen that I couldn’t have sat down and had a drink with.” Cas smirks. “I bet you thought you had me there.”

“Kinda did,” Dean admits. “Damn. Well, at least you never had to fuck anyone you didn’t want to. That’s something.”

Cas nods his agreement, then fixes his eyes on Dean, sharp enough to cut through him even on screen. “Never have I ever picked someone up at a night club for anonymous, no strings attached sex.”

Dean’s not sure why he’s surprised to hear Cas say that isn’t a thing he’s done. It’s not like having sex on camera means he’s got no boundaries, no limits, but that seems like a pretty tame thing to do in the grand scheme of things. Dean reaches down and pulls off one of his socks, dangling it in front of the camera before adding it to the pile of shirts on the couch next to him.

“That’s all I get? A sock?”

“One question, one item of clothing. Nothing in the rules says you get to choose what I take off.”

“I hate you,” Cas grumbles.

“No you don’t,” Dean scoffs. “Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Cas scrunches up his nose in distaste. “That requires some clarification. I’ve done some shoots in places that are technically public that have been made private by merit of temporary walls or curtains. There are camera people and directors and such around. No members of the public though. But I’ve never had sex in my private life anywhere that would count as public or exhibitionist or anything. Would you count that as a yes, or a no?”

Dean sighs. “I guess technically, that’s a no. It’s not the same. This game is too hard. Can I just go back to asking you about shit I’ve already seen you do?”

“Not unless you want me to tell you that I’ve never been pinned down with my arms trapped behind my back and fucked until I came untouched because I really like being manhandled, because we both know that’s completely true and you’ll lose your other sock.” Dean tries to make offended noises, but he can’t. They both know Cas is totally right. And goddamn it, Dean is competitive. If it’s easy for Dean, it’s easy for Cas too.

“Fine. The rule stands.”

“That’s what I thought. We’re still gonna talk about how fucking hard you came when I did that, by the way. I think that’s something that merits exploring.”

“Not arguing that,” Dean tells him a little petulantly. He _did_ come pretty hard, and embarrassingly fast, and his cock received no attention whatsoever. So yeah, he liked it. But that’s not what they’re supposed to be talking about right now. “But that’s a conversation for when you get home. You gonna take your turn or are you gonna keep stalling?”

“Not stalling,” Cas counters. “Just making a point. Um. Let’s see…” He takes another drink of his bourbon, then runs his hand through his messy hair and closes his eyes for a moment. Dean can’t tell if he’s honestly trying to come up with something or if he already knows what to say and he’s being a dick about it. Probably being a dick. He’s always a dick. That’s kind of one of the best things about him. “Never have I ever been to a strip club.”

Dean’s other sock joins the growing pile of clothing, but his eyes are all for Cas, narrowing into a questioning squint. “Are you fucking kidding me? What rock did you live under?”

“It’s true,” Cas tells him earnestly. “I was supposed to go to one, once. A friend’s birthday. We were at some pub, more than a couple drinks in, and buddy decides he wants a lap dance. Unfortunately, the club he wanted to go to was across town and the only ride at my disposal was not exactly a designated driver. I couldn’t convince them all to wait for a cab and it was a busy fucking night, so by the time I finally got there, everyone else was on their way out the door to go do shots somewhere else. Never even made it inside.” He laughs, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve got no cheats left. It’s your pants, next.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean gripes. “I’m gonna have to take you to a peeler bar when you get back. It ain’t exactly an exciting thing, but nobody should be able to honestly say they’ve never been to one.”

“If you insist,” Cas replies. “Although I don’t see the point of staring at half naked men on stage when I can have totally naked you in my lap in the comfort of my own home. It’s your turn.”

Dean chooses to ignore the blatant flattery in favour of unleashing what he is certain will be his trump card. “Never have I ever jacked off to a video of myself having sex.”

Cas laughs so hard Dean is nearly insulted.

“Uh…no.” Cas wipes a tear from his eye, chest still heaving with laughter. “Oh god no. That would be so weird. I watch my own shit to see how it turned out, but no. On my god no. That would be so fucking weird. No. Never have I ever.”

“Why would that be weird?!” Dean exclaims. “You got off doing it, you can’t get off watching it?”

“It’s _work_ , Dean. I’m not gonna jack off thinking about work. When you masturbate do you think about the cars you restore?”

This, Dean has to laugh at. “Well I don’t know man. Some of those are fuckin’ sexy cars.”

Cas shoots him a withering look.

“Okay. I see your point. I get why that might be weird for you. But the whole point of porn is so that people can watch it and jack off, so I never really thought about it that way. “

“Touche,” Cas concedes. “But you once told me it felt weird to watch porn when you know one of the guys in it, so you hadn’t watched any of my videos since we started fucking. And I already know _all_ the guys in my movies on account of having met them and fucked them. So…” Cas shrugs.

“Okay, okay, you win! I get it. Take your fucking turn!” He sounds kinda snappish, but the face he gives Cas is all smiles.

“Gladly.” Cas rubs his hands together and cracks his knuckles like he’s about to launch into a piano concerto rather than a fucking drinking game. “Okay, I’m taking a bit of a shot in the dark here, but…never have I ever let someone spank me during sex.”

Dean’s face pales. His jaw drops. He can feel his mouth hanging unattractively open but he can’t seem to do anything about it. He could deny it, probably, and Cas might even play along, but the facial expressions have given him away completely. Cas knows now, and there’s no undoing that. He heaves a sigh and looks Cas straight in the eye, trying to school his features to stillness, then stands and removes his jeans with a sullen sort of haste. When he’s finished, he drops them to the floor, adjusts himself inside the last piece of clothing left to him, and sits back down. His stare dares Cas to ask follow up questions.

Smug. That’s the best word to describe the look Cas gives him. Smug, and deliciously satisfied. He looks like he wants to discuss this revelation further but instead what he says is. “You’re full of surprises. I believe it’s your turn, babe.”

Dean’s grateful for the change of subject. At the same time, he knows for a fact this is going to come up later. Probably at the same time as the conversation about how Dean really likes being pinned down and is maybe probably totally on board for a little bit of bondage in the bedroom. Perhaps in a couple of days when Cas is home he’ll be ready to discuss these things in greater detail but at this juncture, admitting they exist is about as far as Dean is prepared to go. So yes, back to the game.

“Never have I ever had an inanimate object in my ass that wasn’t originally intended for sex.” It’s the last thing Dean can think to try that has any real chance of winning. He figures there’s a lot of things this could encompass. None of Cas’ videos feature anything other than plugs or dildos but who knows? Maybe he’s used something less conventional off screen.

“Creative, I’ll give you that. Very open ended question. That could mean a lot of things. Could easily have tripped me up. But I can say, unequivocally, that I have never. I’ll grant you my sock anyway though, but only because I _have_ used an object that would qualify on someone else.” He stands and pulls off a sock, dangling it in front of the screen for a moment before letting it fall. “And now, for the win.” The devious grin on his face shouldn’t do things to Dean, but it does. “Never have I ever gotten naked on video chat and let my boyfriend instruct me on exactly how to fuck myself with a dildo while he watched.”

“That’s…oddly specific,” Dean says with a wry twist of his lips. “I can’t say I ever have though.”

Cas’ reply is delivered so casually that he might as well be discussing paint colours. “Would you like to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never have I ever ended a chapter on such an evil cliffhanger as this.


	8. Good Boys Do As They're Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean gets what's coming to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is significantly shorter than some of the others, but after where I left you guys last week, it had to be done. There's more plot coming soon, I promise, but for now, have some smut.
> 
> Once again I would like to thank my beautiful beta [KreweOfImp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp/pseuds/KreweOfImp) who is so totally amazing, i think i might puke rainbows.

“I beg your pardon?” Dean asks, stunned.

“You heard me. If you go get your dildo, this could be almost as much fun as having you right here with me.” There’s a shift in Cas’ voice, a sharp edge to the low rumble that Dean has never heard there before. It stirs something primal in him, a deep need to comply. He stifles the tiny groundswell of panic that surges up as he’s confronted with the idea that it might be really hot to let Cas boss him around, and eventually it’s the lust that wins out. He stands, unceremoniously dropping his shorts to the ground before striding purposefully from the room. He takes the laptop with him, figuring that he’d much rather kneel on his bed than perch on the couch for this. The laptop gets deposited at the foot of the bed and he begins rummaging around in his nightstand until he finds the dildo he wants. There are probably more in that drawer than are strictly necessary but, so sue him, Dean likes it in the ass.

When he retrieves his favourite dildo and a bottle of lube, Cas has repositioned himself and is now further from the laptop’s camera, draped casually across a sofa in his hotel room. He’s naked, even though Dean definitely failed to undress him in the course of their game. If Dean had any doubts about whether he was the only one who found this entire series of events thoroughly arousing, the way Cas’ thick cock juts out appealingly would put them to rest.

“Got it?” Cas asks, and Dean replies by waving the dildo in front of the camera. He sets it down on the bed beside his laptop, then gives Cas a nod and waits.

“Good,” Cas murmurs. “That’s good. Hands and knees now, with your ass facing me.” Cas waits while Dean repositions himself, probably taking very clear note of how quickly he responds. He’s got the decency not to point it out, though. Dean’s sure they’ll talk about that later, too.  “I want you to start with just one finger. Go slow.”

Dean reaches for the lube, slicking up his index finger generously before reaching back between his legs and pressing the tip of his finger to his hole. The first push as he breaches himself hurts a little, but then, it always does. The burn soon fades though, and is replaced by a delicious kind of pleasure, the stretch sending shivers up his spine.

“Yeah, just like that,” Cas affirms. Dean wishes he could see him right now, but there’s no way to expose his ass to the camera and see the screen at the same time. Maybe before the next time Cas goes away he’ll get an external camera so he doesn’t have to rely on the one built into his laptop. Then he could put the thing wherever he wanted and watch Cas at the same time as…oh god. He’s already thinking about what he’s going to do the next time he fucks himself on webcam for his boyfriend. This…this probably says something very pointed about how _right_ Cas is about Dean’s proclivities. They’re going to have a very, very long conversation when Cas gets home.

Dean can’t see him, but he can hear Cas perfectly clearly. He hums with satisfaction at the sight of Dean’s finger sliding into his ass. “That’s it, nice and slow. You look so good for me, Dean.” Dean sighs in pleasure. He’s ready for more but he knows instinctively not to add a second finger until Cas tells him to. Cas seems content to watch him like this for the time being, so he pushes and twists his finger, working to get as much friction as he can off a single digit, trying to imagine what he looks like to Cas.

“Stop.” Cas tells him firmly. Dean’s hand freezes. He hears a soft huff of dark laughter from the computer behind him, but other than that Cas is quiet for what seems like forever. It’s probably only a few seconds in reality but it feels like hours. “More lube,” he commands. “And you can add another finger. Don’t rush now.”

The click of the lid on the lube bottle is the only sound for a few moments, and then Dean is sliding two fingers into his already slick hole, revelling in the renewed burn granted by the greater girth. He spreads his legs wider as the fingers disappear into him, unable to stifle the soft moan that falls from his lips. How much better this would be if Cas was right here with him, if they were Cas’ fingers stretching him open! Still, it feels amazing, and his already hard dick leaks a drop of precome onto the bed as if to confirm his enjoyment.

“Give ‘em a twist,” says Cas’ voice. “Wanna make sure you’re good and ready before we get that toy in there.” Dean groans as he complies, scissoring his fingers as he does. God, he loves this part, when he’s still all tight and tense. Loves the feeling of his body slowly yielding until he’s relaxed and ready and he can really get down to the fun. His head drops to rest on his forearm as he gets lost in the sensations.

Dean expected Cas to draw this out, make it last, make him wait. He figured he’d be writhing and desperate, two fingers deep in his ass, for a very long time before Cas decided it was time to graduate to anything else. He was dead wrong.

“Think you’re ready for something bigger?” Cas asks. Dean is just now at the point where he’s used to the stretch of two fingers, but the idea of trading up to the dildo is already appealing. He huffs out a breathy agreement. “Good. On your back, legs open for me. I wanna see you.” Dean momentarily laments the loss of fullness as he turns over, planting his feet wide so his entire ass is exposed to his boyfriend on screen.

“Prop yourself up on some pillows. Can you see me?”

“Not really,” Dean concedes.

“That’s too bad. Wish you could see how hard I am for you. Come on, get your toy.”

Dean slicks the thing up with a generous helping of lube and presses the head against his hole. It pushes past the tightness of his rim with some resistance, but once he starts to slide the thing in, Dean quickly finds himself relaxing. Before long his body grows accustomed to the intrusion and all he feels is pleasure.

“Fuck, that looks good,” Cas tells him. “Tell me how it feels.” Dean means to groan but what comes out is a whimper. He should be railing against the orders Cas is issuing but instead, he just wants to obey. Honestly, the whole thing is making him far hotter than it has any right to. He’s no exhibitionist. Never gotten off on having someone watch. But it’s Cas that’s watching, Cas that’s telling him what to do, and sweet mercy that pushes some buttons.

“Feels…feels good, but it would feel better if it was your cock,” Dean answers cheekily.

“Hmm, I’m sure it would,” Cas agrees. “That’ll have to wait a couple days though, won’t it? For now, you’re just going to have to fuck yourself on that dildo and give me a nice reminder of what I’ve got waiting at home for me. Move it a little faster now, and I want your other hand on your cock. You’re going to come for me, Dean.”

Damn straight, he is. And considering how turned on he is just from the feeling of that dildo filling him up and the sound of Cas’ voice urging him onward, it’s gonna be pretty fast once he starts stroking his cock. Dean keeps his touch light and loose, thumb slipping through the precome on the head of his dick as he moves his hand easily.

Not for the first time, Dean wishes he could see the computer screen at this exact moment. He’d love to see Cas’ face, watch the way his eyes get heavy and lidded. Are his lips parted to allow the shallow breaths that come when he’s too worked up to control himself? Is he fucking his own fist while he watches Dean defile himself on screen? Maybe he’s just sitting there staring. He wonders, too, what he looks like on Cas’ screen. The little picture in picture window on the chat screen would give Dean a nice view of his own show. Does he look awkward reaching between his legs to work the dildo while he fists his cock? His arousal builds quickly with these thoughts on his mind, and soon Dean feels his hips start to rock, oscillating between the dual sources of pleasure.

“Come on, baby,” Cas coaxes him. His voice is raw, thick with lust and full of an air of command. “You must be getting so close. Love to watch you let go. Get yourself off, I know you want to.” Dean cranes his neck a little, trying and failing to get a view of the computer screen, and when he doesn’t get the glimpse he wants, he settles for redoubling his efforts. His hands speed up, fucking himself on the toy hard and fast, his palm flying over his cock as that all too familiar heat starts to coil in his belly. Before long, he’s crying out, ropes of white landing on his belly and chest. He’s distantly aware of Cas murmuring praise as he comes but he’s too hazy in the aftershocks to register them clearly. When he collects himself, Dean crawls around to face the laptop, heedless of the mess on his belly. He’s situated on his knees with a clear view of the screen just in time to watch Cas come. His moans don’t sound quite as good as they do in person (blame that one on the shitty speakers on his laptop) but god does Dean love those sounds. Cas throws his head back, mouth open wide, and strokes himself through what looks to be a truly satisfying orgasm.

“So,” Cas tells him breathlessly. “Now you can’t say you never ever have. Can’t wait until I get home and we can start checking other things off your to-do list.”

Dean chokes on his laughter, but it’s not a no.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to start getting into some BDSM in the next few chapters. I'll be updating the tags when I post, but unofficially, this story will now include rope bondage, spanking, both with a bare hand and a belt, as foreplay and, ostensibly, as punishment, If none of that is your thing then thanks for following along until this point, but if you're sticking around then yay!


	9. Running Down a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean has a super uncomfortable conversation with Sam, and then another with Cas, and then Dean is just plain uncomfortable in general. Right up until he's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this chapter is beta'd by the absolutely precious [KreweOfImp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp/pseuds/KreweOfImp). She had a birthday this past week and I wrote her a thing for it, but because I work approximately 800 hours a week (on average) it wasn't done for her birthday and has been posted today! If you're so inclined, [go read it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7302865) and then also go read my lovely Imp's works and leave her birthday messages because she's one of my favourite humans and she deserves all of the happiness.

“I swear to god, Sam, I wasn’t keeping it from you!” Dean shouts defensively, for what has to be the tenth time. This is not a conversation he wanted to be having in the first place, but he especially does not want to be having it today. It’s not Sam’s fault, not really, but he is definitely the one in Dean’s crosshairs right now, so he’s the one catching the brunt of Dean’s bad mood. At least it’s over the phone, so he doesn’t have to deal with the fucking puppy dog eyes. Dean will forever regret letting Sam find out how hard it is for him to battle that look.

“I didn’t say you were!” Sam lobs back. “I’m just saying, you know, we’re working on seating arrangements and you said you weren’t bringing a plus one back when you originally agreed to be my best man. We can _make_ room, you just have to tell me there’s a person to make room for! And I don’t know, I just figured I’d be one of those people you’d actually _tell_ if there was someone in your life now instead of me having to find out by running into Benny at the farmer’s market.”

Dean stops short of asking what the fuck Benny was doing at the farmer’s market. He doesn’t need another lecture from Sam about the value of local produce, or how a hundred-mile diet is really the only responsible way to go. Dean will keep eating food that comes from pretty much anywhere as long as it tastes good. Eco-warrior younger brothers are not about to change his perspective.

“It just didn’t come up! And besides, it’s still pretty new. I didn’t want to assume you’d be okay with me bringing someone I haven’t known that long to your goddamned wedding! It’s bad enough I gotta wear a suit, I don’t need this whole big thing about me hanging over the day. This is about you and Jess.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam implores him. “If you’re seeing someone that matters to you, of course they’re going to be welcome. Why don’t you two come over for dinner one night next week and then we can put this whole thing to rest, okay?”

Dean sighs, dragging a hand down his face in resignation. “Fine, fine, whatever.”

“Okay cool. I’ll figure out what Jess’ schedule looks like and we’ll pick a date. But, uh, you know I gotta ask because you haven’t been forthcoming with details at all…Is this a girlfriend or a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend,” Dean answers quickly, anxious to finally end this call. “Boyfriend.”

“Anyone I might know?” Sam asks casually, all the heat of the earlier argument evaporating from his voice.

“You know what Sam?” Dean tells him glibly. “I certainly don’t think so.”

He really shouldn’t have snapped at Sam. He knows better. His shitty day is not at all Sam’s fault. But he hasn’t been able to get himself sorted out all day, and now that he’s home and showered he pretty much has to run right out the door to pick Cas up at the airport. It’d be nice if he could shake the mood before he gets to the arrivals gate, but somehow Dean doubts that’ll happen. He’s been unsettled all day, and it’s at least a little bit Cas’ fault, so Dean’s not really sure what’s going to happen when he sees him again.

The skype call on Wednesday was fun. Unexpected, but fun. Dean had no idea he’d enjoy something like that, although Cas seemed pretty certain. It’s not like he was forced into anything; Cas never tried to coerce him into any of it, and in any case, if Dean was uncomfortable he could have ended the call or just put his pants back on at any point in time. It was totally no risk. And he _had_ enjoyed himself immensely. The problem wasn’t what they did. The problem is what it did to him.

Dean does not generally dream all that vividly, but last night... Well. The images are seared into his mind. He’s been trying to shake them all day with no success to speak of. Dean can still recall with sharp clarity the scene his brain chose to play out for him. Cas had bound him in thick, scratchy ropes, arms above his head and lashed to the headboard, and had proceeded to unleash a flurry of blows from his open palm on Dean’s ass until he’d cried and writhed and begged. And then, to Dean’s ultimate humiliation, he’d called Dean a good boy and fucked his freshly spanked ass so hard Dean thought he’d still feel it when he woke up. He hadn’t, of course, because dreams don’t work like that, but he _had_ woken up coming in his pants. Dean was, understandably, mortified. He hadn’t suffered a wet dream since his teenage years, and he’d certainly never gotten off from a spanking before, real or imagined. And now in just shy of an hour he’s going to be in a car with the man who’d done these things to him in the dream.

The worst part, the absolute worst thing about it, is that nothing about that dream was anything less than horrifyingly, completely hot. Dream-Dean had loved every fucking second of it. He’d loved the imagined pain of Cas’ hand colliding with his ass over and over. He’d reveled in the feeling of helplessness with his hands securely tied and Cas bearing down on him. He recalled thinking, in the thick of it, that it was some of the best sex he’d had in an absurdly long time (and considering the mind-blowing nature of what he and Cas had been getting up to in the waking world, that’s saying something).

So yeah, the dream was sheer pleasure, and that’s the part he has a problem with. Dean has never before imagined that he might be into anything like that. He’s never even been curious about fetish porn, for crying out loud. And now, one mere suggestion of a _conversation_ about kinky bedroom antics and all of a sudden Dean is coming in his pants and dreaming about begging for it. He’s got no clue how he’s supposed to look Cas in the eye after all this, and even less clue how to actually talk about it.

He could probably come up with a half-way believable excuse for not being able to pick Cas up at the airport if he really wanted. Cas would take a cab. Cas would understand. But that would only buy him time, and anyway, he does really _want_ to see Cas. He wants to kiss him again, wants to take him out to dinner to welcome him home, and he really, _really_ wants Cas to fuck him.

Except all day his mind’s eye has been torturing him with scenes from that dream. He nearly decapitated himself walking into a truck up on the lift in the garage earlier because his brain chose that exact moment to remind him the perfect shade of red his ass had turned when Cas was done spanking him, and Christ almighty, Dean didn’t even think you were supposed to be able to _see_ colors in dreams but apparently there it is. And he was in the middle of a conversation with a very important client about picking out some details for the hot rod he wanted restored when he suddenly remembered the needy, pathetic, greedy way he begged Cas to fuck him. Even if he was the only person who knew, it was embarrassing. And it was only made worse by the fact that he kept popping random boners all day, because as much as Dean’s brain understood that this was awkward and not convenient, his dick seemed to think the entire thing was just _marvelous_ , and apparently couldn’t wait to enact some of these things in the waking world.

Traitorous dick aside, there’s a lot going through Dean’s mind on the way to the airport. It’s the kind of conversation you gotta prepare for. Dean has no desire to just go headlong into this thing without having any idea what he really wants to say, but therein lies the problem. He’s still very much of two minds about it. Well, one mind and one enthusiastic cock. But they are very much in disagreement.

And okay, so maybe if he hadn’t thought about Cas grabbing a handful of his hair, jerking his head back, and whispering filthy, depraved things in his ear at the same time he tried to listen to his brother talk about seating arrangements, this day might have been a little better. But that’s exactly what happened, and it was easier to snap at Sam than process how fucked up it was that he found himself immeasurably turned on by that thought. It hadn’t even been from the dream, that one! Dean had come up with that shit all on his own!

He’s not any more settled by the time he shoulders up against the rail at the arrivals gate. Cas’ plane has already landed. He should be coming through the gates at any moment, and Dean still has no idea what he’s going to say. Maybe Cas will be too exhausted from travelling to talk about things right away. Dinner and a couple drinks might serve to settle Dean down enough that he can have this conversation without inserting both feet directly into his mouth. If he’s lucky.

He’s not lucky.

Cas strides though the sliding glass doors looking, for lack of a better word, chipper. He’s all bright eyes and smiles, his grin growing even wider the second he spots Dean. He must have napped on the plane, Dean surmises, or perhaps just availed himself of the in-flight beverage offerings. Dean wishes his own reaction was as enthusiastic. Unfortunately, all he can think about is that damned dream.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Cas professes as he throws his arms around Dean.

“Aw, you mean Phoenix wasn’t fun?”

“Phoenix was fine. The shoot went great after we fixed that whole _your arm is in my shot_ issue with one of my stars. But it was work. It’s good to be home.”

Conversation is futile in the cacophony of the airport, so Cas doesn’t really try. As soon as they get into the car and Dean weaves a route out of the parking lot, though, Cas is non-stop. Dean hears it all but barely processes any of it. He’s much too focused on what’s going to happen when Cas decides he wants to talk about…things. They’re basically pulling into the parking garage at Cas’ apartment by the time Dean really manages to latch his brain onto the conversation. Cas hands him a visitor pass, he backs into the only free spot it entitles him to, and then there’s nothing to focus on other than Cas’ words.

“I swear to God I was never that obtuse even on my first shoot. I can’t have been. It’s not possible. Like, sure, fucking on film isn’t exactly the same thing as just having actual sex, but you’d think by the second time you ruin a take because you blocked the camera’s view of penetration with your stupid arm, you’d pay some attention to where you’re placing things. It’s not hard. I thought we’d never get this thing shot.” Dean nods, eyes on the road, and lets Cas rant. He’s not angry, not really, he’s just venting, but he’s so passionate about all these things that Dean is more than happy to let him pour it out.

“So anyway, this guy, this total fucking moron on his first fucking shoot, we finish the scene and he has the absolute _nerve_ to tell me that he feels like he really found his groove after he figured out how to get over me interrupting his flow all the time. His _flow,_ Dean. What the actual fuck?!”

“That’s fucked up,” Dean says half-heartedly. It’s not that he doesn’t agree. He’s just like, really distracted. He helps Cas get his bags into the apartment and he’s about to ask where he wants to go for dinner when Cas rounds on him.

“What’s going on? You seem like you’re miles away. Something wrong?”

Dean wants to tell him no, nothing’s wrong. He wants to shove all his confusion away and just be happy that Cas is back. He wants to avoid this conversation until the last possible minute and then employ some stalling tactics to push it back a little further, and then he wants to deny the truth until Cas calls bullshit and makes him admit it. He wants, more than anything, to not be so fucking distracted by a single dream that he ceases to be a functional human being.

Instead, Dean does the dumbest thing possible.  He opens his mouth, and words pour out.

“I kinda think I want you to tie me up and spank me,” he blurts, and then there’s a hand slapping over his mouth, and yup, it’s his own hand, desperately trying to stop the flow of words that are already out in the open. He can’t have them back. The damage is done.

Cas just stares at him, a wry smirk on his lips, and watches Dean’s face go from shock to confusion and then cycle right through to mortification. Dean makes as if to go for the door and it’s only because Cas stands firm between him and the exit that Dean doesn’t literally run from this conversation. Instead he finds himself stopped in his tracks by firm hands on his biceps as Cas bears him back against the wall. He expects the crash of Cas’s lips against his but it’s not what he gets. No, Cas seems content to just stand back and watch Dean squirm, struggling to gain freedom that they both know he actually doesn’t want.

“Is that all?” Cas asks dryly, “I thought we established this already with that little video chat thing. You like being bossed around, and you definitely liked it when I held you down last week. None of this is a surprise to me.”

“Well it’s a surprise to me!” Dean snaps back. His teeth clack almost painfully as he snaps his jaw shut. When will he learn to just shut his mouth and stop blurting things out?

“And that’s what’s got you all stressed out and broody? You think I’m going to judge you because you like the idea of something other than missionary position? I’m a _porn star,_ Dean. Or at least I used to be. I’m probably the last person you have to worry about judging you for how you get off.”

Dean eyes him carefully before choosing his words. It’s this new thing he’s trying, thinking before speaking. “I’m actually more worried that _I’m_ going to judge me,” he admits quietly. “That’s a really fucked up thing to want, right? But we did…what we did while you were away, and yeah, I really liked it. And then I had this dream…”

“Oh really,” Cas cuts him off, “you been fantasizing about all the things you wanna let me do to you?” His knee slides between Dean’s thighs, pressing against his cock which is, yup, embarrassingly hard just as a result of being pressed against the wall. If any part of Dean was still hoping to deny how fucking turned on he is at the idea of being manhandled, his overenthusiastic dick pretty much did it in.

“It’s not…” Dean cuts off with a high whine as Cas rolls his hips, grinding against Dean’s length. “I wasn’t even thinking about it but this dream,” he sighs, trying to regain a shred of composure and failing desperately. “I haven’t been able to get it off my mind.”

Cas kisses him, wet and filthy, never letting up on the pressure of his hips. His hands grip Dean’s wrists tightly, holding them against the wall beside his shoulders. “Tell me about this dream,” he says, breaking his lips away from Dean’s mouth. “Tell me what’s got you so worked up.”

“You,” Dean begins hesitantly, his breath shaky. “You tied me to the bed.”

“Did I?” Cas asks, clearly rhetorical. He nips at Dean’s jaw. “On your back?”

Dean shakes his head. “Face down. Arms tied to the corners of the bed.”

“And what did I do then?”

“You spanked me.” The admission takes everything Dean has and more. He closes his eyes to hide his shame, letting his head fall back as Cas drags the heat of his breath across Dean’s throat, pausing to kiss where his pulse is strongest. “ _Hard_ ,” he adds for emphasis. “Turned my ass bright red.”

“And you liked that, did you?” Cas purrs. He’s enjoying this, the fucker, taking pleasure in the mortification that’s causing Dean’s voice to pitch up. “It’s quite a nice ass. I’m thinking it would look pretty damn good with my hands all over it. Is that all that happened? I spanked you?”

“No,” Dean concedes. “You…you told me I was a good boy, and…”

“And then I fucked you?” Cas finishes the sentence, leaving Dean to swallow hard and nod, eyes still closed. “Look at me, Dean,” he commands sharply. Dean’s eyes open, snapping up to meet Cas’ hard gaze. “Oh, yes. I can see it in your eyes. You think this is something to be ashamed of, but it doesn’t make you want it any less. Do you want me to tie you up Dean?”

Dean whimpers plaintively, his hips rocking away from the wall to steal whatever friction Cas will let him have. He opens his mouth with the full intention of protesting but when an emphatic and breathy “yes!” tumbles out instead, Dean isn’t even really surprised to find that he means it. Cas kisses him fiercely, claiming Dean’s lips as he releases his hands to grab at Dean’s hips. The kiss ends and Dean finds himself dragged away from the wall and shoved toward the bedroom. He stumbles, dizzy with lust, and just as he finds his footing Cas swats playfully at his ass.

“Naked on the bed, face down, by the time I dig my ropes out of the closet. Let’s see if we can’t make the reality better than the fantasy, shall we?”

Dean’s fingers fly over the buttons on his shirt, shucking off layers in a haphazard pile on the floor with so much speed he’d be entirely unsurprised to find that he’s ripped something in the process. Flannel gives way to soft jersey and denim, and as he strips his way to nudity, Dean’s inner monologue is reduced to a fevered litany of _holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck._ He can barely believe he wants this, and even less believe that it’s happening, but he’s going to roll with it right up until the moment the dream ends or Cas changes his mind.

Dean throws himself on the bed with gusto, barely catching himself on hands and knees in time to avoid landing awkwardly on his already hard cock. He lowers himself with just a bit more care, settling onto the mattress and shifting until he feels a little bit more comfortable. The comfort, Dean is fairly certain, will not last long.

“Fuck,” Cas breathes. “It’s such a nice ass, too. Bet it’s going to look gorgeous when I’m done with you.” There are several lengths of black rope in Cas’ hands, pieces in various sizes dangling from his fingers as he approaches the bed. Dean sucks in a steadying breath, trying to determine if his body is geared toward running away or if it’s just the anticipation of this totally intense thing that has him tense and anxious. He settles on an answer that is somewhere in the middle. Cas kneels on the edge of the bed beside him, sets the rope down, and cards his fingers gently through Dean’s hair.

“Do you know what a safeword is?” he asks seriously. Dean stares at him kind of blankly. It seems like the kind of thing that should be self-explanatory but there’s this little voice in the back of his mind that says it’s a bad idea to make any assumptions when he’s discussing the finer details of getting his ass bruised up real nice. “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Cas tells him, apparently sensing Dean’s hesitation. “It’s the word you’re going to use if things get to be too much and you want everything to stop.”

“So like…Stop?” Dean suggests. “I feel like _stop_ is a good signal to, you know, stop.”

“Sure, but people generally pick something they’re never going to say in the heat of the moment. Not that it’s what I’m in to, but if you’ve got someone who’s in to consensual non-consent, they might say stop a whole fucking lot and not mean it.”

“Consensual non-con…Oh. Oh. No. Not for me,” Dean stammers.

Cas laughs, not unkindly. “Yeah don’t worry babe. I have no intention of going there. Listen, forget the whole picking a safeword thing. Just, let’s use the stoplight system. Green means go, yellow is proceed with caution, red means full stop. I’ll be listening, and if at any point in time you don’t like what’s happening, you just tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dean repeats. “I got it.”

“Good,” Cas mutters, stroking a hand down Dean’s cheek. “Show me how your hands were in the dream.” His tone takes on a sharper edge of command, one that insists on obedience. Dean is surprised by how fast he moves to obey, spreading his arms so each one points towards a corner of the bed. Cas makes no verbal response, just shifts himself up the bed so he can begin to tie a sturdy rope cuff around Dean’s left wrist. Dean tries to watch the process and learn the knot, but Cas works so quickly that it’s just a flurry of rope and skin, and before long Dean is bound quite securely. Whatever the ropes are made of feels scratchy against his skin but not in a painful way, just in a way that makes him certain that they are strong and unyielding, and it will only be by Cas’ intent that he eventually becomes free of them.

“What’s your color?” Cas asks, checking the tension on the ropes. Dean pauses for a moment to assess his situation. One hand is wrapped in rope but not tied to anything. He’s naked and Cas is touching him. He’s about to play out what is apparently a deeply held subconscious fantasy.

“Green,” he replies emphatically, hoping Cas can tell how sincerely he means it. Cas quickly secures the tail of the rope to the bedpost, and Dean’s bondage has well and truly begun. After the other hand is bound similarly, Cas pauses to ensure Dean is still in the green zone, then he steps back to the foot of the bed out of Dean’s line of sight to survey his handiwork.

“What happened when you woke up from this dream?” Cas demands in that voice that Dean is already learning to love. “Did you touch yourself? Get so turned on by this dream that you just had to fuck your fist and think about me?” Dean lets out a heavy breath, nearly a moan. He’s unable to respond, or perhaps just unwilling to admit the truth, and there’s a few moments where Cas lets the delay stand. Dean barely has time to register footsteps approaching before Cas’ hand is in his hair, grabbing a careless fistful and jerking his head back so their eyes can meet.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses fiercely. The sound of his voice, so intense and focused on Dean, goes straight to his dick, and if he wasn’t painfully hard before he sure as fuck is now. He pulls at Cas’ grip but all it serves to accomplish is to tug at his hair, sharp jolts of pain shooting through his scalp. Dean might never be able to admit it in the daylight but he does it again, just to revel in the sting.

Cas might be on to something here. Just maybe.

“No,” Dean whispers finally. “Didn’t have to.”

“So you came just from dreaming about it, is that what you’re telling me?” Cas murmurs darkly. Dean nods, Cas’ grip tightening in his hair as he does. “I don’t recall giving you permission to come while I was away.” He growls the words in Dean’s ear, harsh and cruel and exactly what Dean needs to hear right now.

He moans low in his throat. Cas hasn’t even _done_ anything yet and Dean is already so turned on, precome leaking from his dick and hips working in tiny circles trying to chase the pleasure. A sharp smack lands on his left cheek, the individual fingers of Cas’ hand each clearly discernable in the sting it leaves behind. “Stay still,” he chastises. “You move when I tell you to move. How many other times did you come while I was away? When you touched yourself on camera for me on Wednesday, you had my permission. How many times did you touch yourself without it?”

“Four,” Dean answers quickly. “I jerked off four times while you were away.”

“So that makes five times you came without my permission. I’m going to spank you ten times for each one. Maybe next time I go out of town you’ll behave better.”

Even through the haze of lust, Dean sees this game for what it is. Of course he didn’t need Cas’ permission to come, and of course Cas isn’t really trying to say that Dean should have known to ask for said permission. But the confident way he speaks, the way his breath warms Dean’s skin as he leans in close to say the words, that’s just too hot to handle.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Dean,” Cas tells him, leaning in close to lick a hot stripe up Dean’s exposed throat. “And I mean to punish you.”

It is resolutely _not fucking fair_ for Cas to be this goddamned sexy. It just isn’t. The idea of being punished for jerking off shouldn’t be hot, being told he’s bad shouldn’t be hot and being tied to a bed and manhandled certainly shouldn’t be hot, but at this exact moment Dean is seriously concerned that he might actually come without permission a sixth time and get himself landed with another ten spanks. 

Cas releases his hold on Dean’s hair and moves back out of sight, leaving Dean to lay one cheek on the bed and wait for the pain he knows is coming. There’s nothing else for it. He can move his legs, sure, but Cas already told him not to move, and some very primal part of Dean wants to obey that command just about as much as he wants to keep breathing. So he waits.

Cas doesn’t drag the anticipation out. By Dean’s estimation, he’s had just enough time to move himself to the foot of the bed and kneel between Dean’s thighs when the first smack falls.

It stings.

Dean expected that. He didn’t expect Cas to lay into him with so much speed and intensity, raining his palm down quickly and sharply so many times in succession that Dean isn’t even certain what the count is. Cas pauses to smooth his hands over the warmed flesh of Dean’s ass, apparently admiring his work, before he sets to work again. It feels to Dean like each successive blow is harder, sharper, and more focused. Each time Cas’ hand rises and falls again, it hurts a little more, but Dean also enjoys it a little more.

“If you don’t stay still,” Cas warns, “I’ll put a cock ring on you and you won’t get to come. You want to come, don’t you Dean?” He slaps Dean’s ass three more times, one on the right cheek, one on the left, and one low in the middle so that Dean feels the graze of his fingertips across his balls.

“Yes,” Dean groans, swimming in endorphins. He’s loving every second of this, he realizes. He loves the pain, loves the restriction of the ropes, and he _loves_ how easily Cas takes to this role.

“Yes, _sir,_ ” Cas corrects him. He doesn’t wait for Dean to acknowledge the honorific before starting up again. And if Dean thought the smacks were firm before, oh lord was he mistaken. That was just Cas warming up. This, the fiery pain that spreads across his backside now, that’s the real spanking. Dean hears himself throw out a desperate _yes sir_ in response to Cas’ correction, and while he’s fully aware that if Cas had asked him to do so earlier he would have balked at it, he can’t seem to care. Right now, Cas could demand pretty much anything and Dean would give it up freely, just because it’s what Cas wanted.

He loses time. He never had count of the strokes to begin with but if he had, he would have lost that by now too. All he has is the sound of Cas’ hand colliding with his flesh and the stinging heat that covers the swell of his ass. Idly, Dean wonders if he’ll bruise. Maybe it’ll hurt to sit down tomorrow. How fucked up is it that he hopes it will?

Dean barely has time to register that the smacks have stopped when he feels Cas’ teeth sink into the tender flesh of his ass, biting down hard and kneading just a little. He cries out, not in protest but in pain that’s nearly indistinguishable from pleasure, and earns himself another firm smack. Cas never told him not to make noise though, so he has to assume this one is just because Cas feels like it.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Cas tells him. “This shade looks good on you. What’s your color?”

“Green,” Dean offers with more conviction than he’s ever felt before in his life. He’s so green. Verdant summer grass. Emeralds. Kermit the motherfucking frog.

“Good. You’ve got ten more coming, and if you can take them without wiggling that damn ass of yours, you’ll get my cock when I’m done. I know that’s what you want, my cock buried in that tight little ass. It’s gonna hurt, getting fucked right after I’m finished punishing you. But that’s what you want, isn’t it, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean cries out. “Want you to fuck me. _Please,_ ” he implores, just shy of begging. Cas makes a satisfied _hmmph_ noise and resumes his work, slapping Dean’s ass hard enough that the sound of flesh meeting flesh is clearly audible over Dean’s breathy moans. It’s all he can do not to writhe under Cas’ ministrations, so worked up that he wants nothing more than to rut against the bed. Anything at all to get some friction on his cock. He could come just like this, Cas spanking his ass and his hips working in short jerks against the mattress. That is, if Cas gave him permission.

The final slap falls so hard that Dean jerks in his bonds, crying out wordlessly before sagging back to the bed. Every inch of his ass is pain, searing heat spreading through him and showing no signs of dulling now that Cas’ palms have stopped adding to it. He feels alive in a way he’s never experienced before, flying high on the rush of adrenaline the pain brings, mixed with all the other chemicals that usually flood the brain during sex. He moans even though nothing is happening, and waits for Cas to fulfill his promise.

And he waits.

And he waits.

Cas is clearly still behind him. Dean can hear the soft sounds of his breath and what’s more, he can feel his presence like some sort of a sixth sense. He knows Cas is there, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t touch Dean, doesn’t speak. He just watches.

“Are you just gonna sit there?” Dean asks finally, his voice more than a little petulant. “Thought if I kept my ass still I was gonna get your cock.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Cas replies thoughtfully. There’s a rustle of fabric which Dean can only assume is the sound of Cas undressing but there’s still no contact.

“Yeah, you did,” Dean agrees. “Promised to fuck me.”

The only touch Dean gets is a single finger sliding between his cheeks to press teasingly against the tight furl of his hole. Where Cas’ hand comes in contact with the freshly spanked skin of his ass, the pain brightens as if coming alive, but what Dean is really focused on is the slow circle Cas’ finger makes, hinting at the idea of sliding inside but making no move to actually do so. Dean whimpers softly, a needy sound he doesn’t even have the will to feel embarrassed about anymore.

“I didn’t so much promise,” Cas explains, “but if you really want me to, I’ll fuck you. Do you want that, Dean?” He withdraws his finger, retrieving a bottle of lube and slicking it up before returning to his tease. Dean moans, arching his back to angle his ass up, plump and pink and inviting.

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean replies emphatically.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” Cas commands, and it truly is a command. He speaks with a voice that gives no room for negotiation. He will be obeyed and he knows it.

“Fuck, Cas, I want it so bad. Feel so good when you fuck me.” Dean’s face, pressed into the mattress, flushes bright as his ass as he hears the words tumble out of his mouth. He’s rewarded with that slick finger finally breaching him. Cas moves so slowly, sliding into Dean like he has all the time in the world, and then drawing back with an equally unhurried pace. It’s pleasant, the burn and the stretch and the tease, but it’s not enough. Dean wants _more._

“Keep going,” Cas tells him, his pace unchanged. His other hand rests on Dean’s rump, drawing attention to the pain that still resides on his skin like a living thing, throbbing with the beat of his heart. “You get nothing until you make me believe you really want it.”

“Want your cock,” Dean tells him. “Wanna feel you inside me. You always fuck me so good. Please Cas, just fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” Dean thinks he’s accomplished his goal when Cas speeds up a little, but the increase is only incremental and isn’t accompanied by another finger, and Cas says nothing on the subject.

“Please,” Dean whimpers, trying very hard to resist the urge to push his hips back and take Cas’ finger in deeper. “Fuck, I want it so bad. Please just fuck me. Please, I’ll be so good just...fuck,” Dean’s breath hitches as a second finger joins the first, pushing and twisting to open Dean up more. Now it’s starting to feel good, more than just the suggestion of a stretch. Cas hums softly, the first sound he’s made in long minutes and his other hand strokes along Dean’s skin in a gesture that is half way soothing. It still manages to draw attention to the pain, though, so more than anything it urges Dean on.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” Dean moans. His hips twitch, trying to fuck himself on Cas’ fingers, and the three slaps he earns in quick succession are _far_ more reward than punishment at this point so they certainly don’t put a damper on his spirits. There’s a steady stream of profanity and words of appreciation spilling from his lips now, desperate noises and pleading sounds that flow whether he thinks he wants them to or not. He sounds wrecked and he knows it. He’s begging and he doesn’t care. Whatever it takes to get Cas to replace those two fingers with his thick cock and fuck Dean until he can’t see straight. “Please, Cas” he pleads again, heedless of how fucking needy he sounds. “ _Please,_ fuck me!”

That, apparently, is the exact amount of begging Cas needed. His fingers are gone without warning, leaving Dean empty and open. He only knows Cas is fitting himself with a condom because he can hear the rustle of the foil wrapper, and the next thing Dean feels is the blunt head of Cas’ cock rubbing between his cheeks, a tantalizing slide that has him pushing back in desperation even though he knows Cas won’t slide home until he’s good and ready. Cas shushes his whimpering, taking pleasure in driving Dean wild with his teasing and when Dean starts to beg again, _please oh please oh please,_ Cas pushes his hips forward and fills Dean up, just like he’s been begging for.

As much as Dean begged, desperate and wanton, he’s barely prepped enough for this. Cas’ cock is so much more of a stretch than his fingers and Dean groans, low and long and loud, for the entire time it takes Cas to fully sheathe himself in Dean’s ass. His hips press against Dean’s fevered flesh and the pain comes to life anew, making Dean squirm and writhe and whine, but Cas will not move. Not until he feels Dean settle and relax under him. Not until he’s sure Dean is ready.

The second he’s confident Dean can take it though, Cas fucks like a man possessed. He grips Dean’s hips hard, fingernails biting into his skin and leaving behind little half-moons in their wake, and his hips snap forward sharply and without remorse. He takes Dean’s ass hard and fast, slamming into him with such force that Dean feels himself creeping up the mattress.

It’s exactly what Dean wanted, this brutal pace, driving him towards orgasm so fast that it’s less a build and more the flipping of a switch. One moment he’s begging Cas to fuck him and the next he’s teetering on the brink, a hair’s breadth from tipping over. He’s torn between trying to hang on and just letting it take him, struggling to decide if he even has any say in the matter, when Cas shifts his angle and begins to graze over his prostate. Any control Dean might have had (and it’s unlikely that he could have held on long anyway) is completely ripped away by the explosion of pleasure that surges through him and his orgasm comes on so strong it’s nearly blinding. He might see stars. He comes with his cock trapped between his body and the bed, Cas still fucking him just as hard as he tenses and cries out before sagging in his bonds.

Cas slows a little as he fucks Dean through wave after wave of pleasure, not gentle by any means but certainly less hurried. He still slams into Dean’s abused ass with fierce intensity, taking his pleasure as Dean drifts in the afterglow. He’s lost the ability to form coherent thoughts at this point but there are still pleased little noises drifting from his lips, fucked-out breathy moans that, if Cas had any doubts about Dean’s enjoyment of the scenario, would serve as more than sufficient evidence.

“I wanna come on your ass,” Cas growls, asking permission without really asking. Dean could call red if he wanted, or at least make displeased noises, but that’s not what he does.

“Do it,” he fires back, his voice raw and hoarse. “Fuckin’ do it.” Cas slides out without another word, pulling off the condom and jacking his dick roughly until thick spurts of white paint themselves across the canvas of Dean’s tender pink ass. Cas groans, sounding just as wrecked as Dean, watching with rapt attention as the last drops fall on Dean’s skin.

Dean feels…good. That’s the only word for it. He hurts, of course. He hurts plenty. His shoulders are sore and his ass is on fire and he doesn’t remember the last time he got fucked that hard, but everything about it makes him so goddamned happy it’s hard to register it as pain or discomfort. He can hear Cas busying himself with something at the other end of the room but he knows he wouldn’t be able to see even if he craned his neck so he contents himself with the soft comfort of the mattress and the knowledge that he got his fantasy and managed not to freak out even a little bit. It’s quite the accomplishment.

Cas comes into view after only a few moments, working gently but quickly to untie the knots that hold Dean’s hands in position. Dean makes fists and stretches his shoulders, shifting as if to roll over but Cas stops him. “Stay still for a moment. I still gotta clean you up. Just wanted to get you untied first.”

Dean complies with only a little grumbling, anxious to roll over after so long pinned on his stomach, but he can’t deny that Cas makes sense. The washcloth he uses is cool on Dean’s beaten ass, feeling probably much cooler than it really is in comparison to the heat radiating off his skin at the moment. Still, it’s soothing, and he sighs pleasantly at the tender care that Cas pays to cleaning him up. He moves gingerly to his back with just a little nudge for motivation, and he knows he’s smiling because his face hurts, but the smile only gets bigger when he finally sees the contented grin on Cas’ face.

“Good?” Cas asks, just a little hint of doubt in his voice, like he’s worried Dean will suddenly decide the whole thing was too much.

“Better than good,” Dean affirms. “Awesome.”

“Excellent,” Cas tells him, pleased. “I wanna show you something.” He passes Dean his phone, which bears a somewhat grainy image of Dean’s own ass, bright red and splattered with Cas’ come. He should be startled or perhaps even offended, but instead, Dean finds himself staring at the picture thinking about how good it felt to be splayed out on the bed like that only minutes ago.

“You can delete it,” Cas tells him almost apologetically. “You just looked so damn good I thought it would be a shame if you didn’t get a chance to see for yourself.” He moves to take the phone from Dean, reaching for the _delete_ button, but Dean stops him.

“Keep it if you want,” he says casually. “I’ve got access to plenty of pictures of your bare ass. It’s only fair.”

“Asshole,” Cas says with a laugh, but it’s playful rather than heated. “So, did it live up to the fantasy?”

“Fuck,” Dean breathes. “You have no idea. I uh…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“Where the fuck did you learn to…don’t get me wrong, that was so hot, but like, where did that Cas come from?” Dean drags a tired hand through his hair, muscles protesting after being secured in one position for so long.

Cas shrugs. “Not my first time messing around with this kind of thing. Never really did it for me before, I’ll admit, but Dean…God, you should see yourself when you’re tied up like that. It’s not hard to get dominant when I see what it does to you. If you wanna do more of this, trust me, I am totally on board.”

Dean feels his face heat anew, no small measure of embarrassment driving the blood to his cheeks as he considers this statement. “I sort of think I do,” he admits, impressed with how steady his voice sounds. “But maybe we go get dinner first? I think we were just going to drop your bags off earlier but we got kinda…sidetracked?”

“We can do that,” Cas says. “I’m looking forward to watching you try not to squirm when you sit down though. I think you’re going to be pretty sore for the next day or so.”

“Worth it.” Dean throws an arm around Cas’ neck, pulling him in close so he can kiss him until all thoughts of dinner are almost completely forgotten. “Oh hey, before I forget again, wanna be my plus one at my brother’s wedding next month?”

“Seriously?” Cas exclaims, pulling back to look Dean in the eye. “You’re sure you want people knowing you’re dating…”

Dean cuts him off. “Cas. Stop. One, I don’t care what you do or what you did for work. I like you for you. Two, anyone who might be in a position to comment on what you do for work is going to have no grounds to make an argument on the subject. If you wanna be there, I want you there.”

Now it’s Cas’ turn to blush. His face colors a truly appealing shade of pink and he ducks his head to kiss Dean again, gentle and chaste in the wake of the near-violent nature of their sex. “I wanna be there.”

“Then it’s settled,” Dean announces, pushing himself up off the bed on unsteady legs. “I’m gonna go take a shower, you decide where you want to eat dinner.” Cas reaches out and smacks his bright red ass as he walks past and if Dean yelps a little, well, it just caught him off guard is all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy so yeah this went WILDLY out of control and I don't apologize even a little bit. Not that I think many of you are going to _ask_ me to apologize. But I just thought I should go on record as totally unapologetic about this.
> 
> And since we're now getting into the BDSM realm of things, I should also go on record about a couple other things. Firstly, in case it's not inordinately clear, everything that happens here is totally consensual. There's not so much an explicit kink negotiation that occurs prior to the actual events, but there probably should have been. While I firmly believe that any and all bdsm scenes should involve clear statement of boundaries and negotiations, I'm also no stranger to the fact that we as people do some silly things when we're all lusty. So yeah. THey didn't like, sit down and negotiate. But Dean was on board, and Cas would have stopped dead in his tracks if Dean wasn't into it or if he protested.
> 
> But, if you're gonna tie someone up and put things in their butt, you should probably have a bit of a chat first about whether or not they want to be tied up, and if they're interested in having things in their butt, and what kind of things they might like to be butt penetrated with. It's just more polite.


	10. Mind your P's and Q's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dinner with Sam and Jess raises some questions, Dean quickly learns that he's pretty good at being a brat, and Cas raises quite the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a million thanks to [KreweofImp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp) for beta reading this fic for me. She's amazing.

Uncomfortable. Definitely uncomfortable. Not the searing pain that was the order of their little escapade the night before by any means but still enough that Dean winces when he rolls over before he’s awake enough to know better. He hisses quietly, wary of waking Cas, despite how deeply asleep he appears to be. Despite his efforts Cas stirs, shifting to throw an arm around Dean’s waist and trying to pull him in close.

“Too early,” Cas mutters lazily. He nuzzles against the back of Dean’s neck, clearly disinterested in the entire idea of consciousness.

“You don’t even know what time it is,” Dean argues, although his heart isn’t really in it. He doesn’t want to get up either. He is, however, totally awake, and with consciousness comes a flood of memories that slam home all at once. The early morning peace is fleeting, chased away by images much more vivid than the ones his dream plagued him with the day before. Now he knows that the sensations they remind him of are accurate because he’s felt them in reality while under full control of his faculties. Every muscle in his body locks tight in apprehension as he tries to process this new reality, the one in which he’s a guy who does these things and gets off on them, the one in which the arms currently wrapped around him are the same ones that struck him so fiercely before.

“Settle down,” Cas murmurs in his ear, sensing the panic that has Dean in its thrall.

“Easy for you to say,” Dean manages to bite out. “You’re not the one who…I mean I can’t believe I…why the fuck did we…” Further comment on the subject ceases to be a priority as Dean finds himself unceremoniously flipped onto his back, pinned in place by the deceptively quick reflexes of a man who apparently only pretended to be lazy and sleepy. Cas traps his wrists against the mattress, his body pressing Dean’s hips down as well, keeping him a captive audience.

“Why?” Cas repeats. “This is why.” He dips his head down and kisses Dean breathless, savouring the taste of his submission. Dean whimpers softly, going pliant beneath Cas’ touch. When Cas relinquishes his claim on Dean’s lips, Dean can’t really remember what he was upset about because he’s too distracted by the intensity in Cas’ eyes. He breathes short and shallow through parted lips, tracing his tongue along the lower one as if to remind himself of the taste of Cas’ mouth before it fades completely. “Are you actually upset?” Cas presses, still holding tight to Dean’s wrists. “Or are you just panicking because you think you’re supposed to be upset about this and really, you’re not?”

Dean shrugs his shoulders noncommittally, shrinking under Cas’ gaze. The gesture doesn’t buy his freedom. Cas just stares at him, daring Dean to deny the truth. Dean opens his mouth to answer then closes it again, words totally escaping him.

“You just say the word, babe, it never happens again,” Cas promises. His face is an open book, honest and frank, and Dean already trusted him implicitly but it’s still heavily reassuring.

“Maybe I want it to happen again,” Dean admits quietly.

Cas smiles at him, eyes dark, and lets go of Dean’s hands. “I know you do.”

\-----

It’s Thursday before they get a chance to head over to Sam and Jess’ place for dinner. Dean’s not worried at all about whether they’ll like Cas. Even if the entire _meet the family_ thing is inherently awkward, Cas is charming and likeable. It’s just a meal with three of his favourite people. As they stand on the doorstep waiting to make introductions, he’s maybe just a little bit irritated with Cas, but he stamps it down. He’ll get his own back.

_“You gonna wear the panties I bought you?” Cas asked, watching Dean paw through his closet to pick out something to wear. Cas was already dressed in a well-tailored suit, with what Dean was sure was the same blue striped tie that featured prominently in the picture he sent Dean all those months ago tied smartly around his throat. Dean tried to cover up the hitch in his movements with a shrug but he was fairly certain was already caught. He turned, revealing the scrap of black lace already clutched in his hands._

_“That’s the plan,” Dean told him. “You’re not gonna make this easy on me, are you?”_

_“Nope,” Cas confirmed with a twitch of his lips. “I most certainly am not. Actually, I was thinking I might issue you a bit of a challenge.”_

_Dean stepped into the panties, adjusting himself for comfort and affording Cas a brief glimpse before donning his own pants. He wouldn’t be as dressed up as Cas but he’d at least show up in dress pants and a neatly pressed shirt. He understood Cas’ desire to impress Sam and Jess, but Dean didn’t share the motivation. “What kind of a challenge?”_

_“The letter Q,” Cas informed him smoothly. “You are forbidden from using it for the balance of the evening. For every time you break this rule, you earn yourself five. I’ll be keeping track, and I will take the number out on your ass when we get home.”_

_“Seriously? Now you wanna tell me what I can say?” Dean stared at him incredulously, shirt half tucked into his pants._

_“I am entirely serious.” Cas regarded him placidly. “It’s up to you whether you obey or not. You remember, nothing is going to happen that you don’t completely agree to. I just might come up with things you would never think to ask for on your own. Now, are we on?”_

_“We’re on,” Dean confirmed._

Dean huffs at the memory, his eyes narrowing as he grumbles under his breath. Cas wants to turn this into a game, does he? Well Dean can definitely play this game. Maybe not the way Cas intends it to be played, but he’ll play it all the same. Before he can get too deep into his planning, Jess opens the door, looking radiant as always, blonde curls hanging loose and a blue and white striped dress adorning her tall frame. She smiles as she ushers them in, offering to take coats and generally fussing over them.

“Sam’s in the kitchen,” she relays as she leads them through the house. “Dinner shouldn’t be too long. Can I get you guys a beer?”

Sam appears to have thought of that already, because he greets Dean and Cas at the boundary of the kitchen with two open bottles in his hands, handing one to each of them before he even utters a greeting.

“You must be Cas,” Sam says with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Dean… hasn’t said much about you, but I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Thank you,” Cas replies, shooting Dean a sideways look. “Dean and I haven’t known each other all that long, so it’s not surprising that he hasn’t brought me up yet.”

“I just wanted to keep things quiet for a while,” Dean interjects. He offers Cas a sheepish grin, almost apologetic, but the mischief that sparkles in his eyes makes it very clear that the slip was intentional. “I knew Sammy would want to play twenty questions as soon as he got a chance to meet you.”

Sam laughs boisterously. “Don’t worry Cas, I’m not going to grill you too hard. Dean’s exaggerating, as usual. I’m glad you’re here.” He turns to lead them into the living room, wrapping his arm around Jess’ waist as he goes. When Dean goes to follow, Cas stalls him with a hand on his arm.

“You’re off to a terrible start,” he says warningly, his voice a low whisper.

“Oh, am I?” Dean replies innocently. “I hadn’t quite noticed.” Cas smacks him firmly on the ass and leads the charge to follow the happy couple out of the room, leaving Dean to trail behind him, certain now that he’s just going to have to redouble his efforts if he wants to get a rise out of Cas.

“So how did you and Dean meet?” Jess asks, sipping her red wine.

Dean hopes he hides his grimace well. They hadn’t exactly discussed how they were going to answer this question. Part of Dean just wants to tell the story how it actually happened. Another wants to make up some much more acceptable BS, not because he’s ashamed of what happened but because, honestly, he doesn’t really want to deal with the barrage of inquiries that will follow such an admission. So instead he leaves it up to Cas to decide how much he wants to reveal.

“Completely by accident, actually,” Cas offers. They take seats on the small loveseat, their hips pressed close together in the minimal space afforded by the thing. Sam and Jess sit opposite them on a larger sofa, drinks on the table. Dean really does love how happy they make each other. He’d never admit it out loud but he’s actually looking forward to their wedding. “A colleague had given me his number but due to some remarkably bad handwriting, I misread it and ended up contacting Dean instead. At an ungodly hour, I might add. Dean could have been rude or dismissive but instead we got to talking, realized we had some common interests, and eventually we decided to meet. Luckiest wrong number of my life.”

“That’s so cute!” Jess exclaims.

“I thought so,” Cas agrees.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to be a bit of a dick. “Aw it wasn’t quite like that,” he interjects. “If I recall correctly, we didn’t end up getting together that quickly. There were a couple of months of quid pro quo trading of information before we had a meeting queued up.”

Cas’ hand, previously resting lightly on Dean’s knee, squeezes tight in warning, not enough to hurt but enough to let Dean know that his little ploy has not gone unnoticed. He hides his smile behind his beer bottle. Sam’s eyes bounce back and forth between them for a few moments before he shakes his head ruefully, long hair flowing with the movement.

“I’m going to chalk that up to some inside joke I don’t want to understand. It’s an interesting story anyway. Unconventional,” he grants, and Dean relaxes a little. At least Sam’s not asking any follow up questions that could end in awkwardness.

“It’s more interesting than our story,” Jess admits. “I met Sam in first year psych. Nothing clever there.”

“A good relationship doesn’t have to have a crazy story,” Cas tells her.

“True,” she agrees, inclining her head curiously. “So what do you do, Cas? Dean never mentioned that either.”

This is the big question, and Dean is actually less worried about Cas’ answer to this one than he was about the story of their meeting. He’s been telling Cas since they first decided this was a _thing_ that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his work so when they talked about it, he was resolute that Cas should feel free to be totally honest if he wanted. Sam might react poorly to the truth, Dean knows this is a possibility, but he’ll deal with that firmly if it comes to it. It’s more important that Cas not feel like Dean is ashamed of him in any way.

“I’m in the adult entertainment industry,” Cas says without hesitation. Dean watches Sam flinch, a snide comment forming and dying on his lips as he sees the murderous glare his brother is casting his way. With his eyes, he dares Sam to say something, dares him to make a big deal out of this, and Sam backs down like the clever kid he is.

“Really?” Jess asks with enthusiasm. “What’s that like?”

Cas is all grace and poise when he replies. “It’s…transitional right now. I used to be in front of the camera, but recently I’ve traded that in to try my hand at directing. It’s different, very different, but I’m enjoying it.” He ignores the pale hue of Sam’s face, instead smiling at Jess as they fall into a conversation about some of the more amusing things he’s seen on set. Somehow, he manages to steer the conversation in such a way that it’s not at all about sex, which, aside from being an incredible accomplishment, also serves to calm Sam down considerably. After the initial shock passes, he even manages to engage a little, adding in his two cents about legal matters that he thinks don’t serve to protect the talent in the way they were probably intended.

This goes on for maybe ten minutes, with Cas and Jess making up the majority of the conversation and the Winchester brothers basically just observing their significant others chat about the logistics of gay porn. It’s not a normal evening. It is, however, a good one. Then a timer can be heard ringing out from the kitchen.

“That’s dinner,” Sam announces. “Dean, can you give me a hand?”

Dean’s certain this is where it’s all going to fall apart. Once Sam gets him alone he’s going to get the Spanish inquisition, all manner of _what the fuck were you thinking_ and _do you really think you should be doing this_ questions lobbed at him until he’s too dizzy to figure out how to dodge them. Still, he follows reluctantly, happy at least that Sam’s going to lambast him in private instead of in front of Cas.

Today is a day full of surprises.

“Dean,” Sam starts when they’re out of earshot, and Dean braces himself. “I get why you didn’t want to say anything earlier, but you know, he seems like a really great guy.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean stammers out. “That’s…not what I was expecting to hear.”

“What, you thought I’d make a scene?” Sam laughs. “Ok, yeah. You got me. Totally caught me off guard. My immediate reaction is one of disapproval. I’m not going to lie about that. But he’s a nice guy, and it seems like you guys get along well, so I guess it doesn’t matter so much. And he did say he’s not making movies anymore, so that’s something.”

“It wouldn’t matter to me if he was,” Dean says, maybe a little too sharply because he set himself up for an argument and now he’s not getting one. “I like him. He likes me. What he does for work isn’t really a big factor in that.”

Sam nods in understanding, though it’s clear to both of them he doesn’t _really_ understand. “You’re being safe though, right?”

“Dude!” Dean exclaims. “Not talking about this. Definitely not talking about this!”

“Dean, it’s important!” Sam presses. “I’m not saying he’s like, unclean or whatever. But you gotta look at the statistics!”

“Sam. Quit it. We’re safe, and he was safe when he was filming too, so I get your concern but I am not a moron and this is literally the last time we’re going to talk about this, you get me?” The last thing Dean needs right now is a lecture about the correlation between infection rates and number of partners. Any form this conversation could take would be pure torture. Dean would rather eat shards of glass for every meal for the rest of his life than discuss that particular subject with his brother. He’d eat it with gusto if it meant never talking about his sex life with Sam.

Sam sighs. “I get you. Wanna grab that bowl of salad for me, put it on the dining room table?”

“You don’t win friends with salad, Sammy,” Dean grouses back. He takes the dish anyway, fleeing the kitchen with his salvation in the form of lettuce. Never before in his life has Dean ever loved salad as much as he does in this moment. Cas and Jess make it to the dining table at about the same time he arrives. He sets the bowl down in the center of the table and then makes his way around to take a seat beside Cas. A firm hand settles on his thigh as soon as he’s seated.

“Incidentally,” Cas murmurs, leaning in to put his face close to Dean’s ear. “I heard basically that entire conversation, and thank you for defending me. But don’t think it means I’m going to forget the Q you stole while you were in there.” If Dean was excited about the promise of a spanking before, he’s practically squirming in his seat now, arousal flaring at the bare suggestion of what Cas is going to do to him. Sam follows shortly after, a bubbly tray of lasagna clutched in his oven-mitted hands. He sets it on a hot pad beside the salad, and as they sit down to enjoy dinner, Dean’s fairly certain the worst of the evening has passed.

He’s mostly right, he learns, as the remainder of the visit passes without incident. Now that Cas’ profession and the abridged version of their initial meeting are out in the open there’s nothing more to be discussed that has the potential for any real drama, and it turns out to be mostly a nice dinner. The worst thing that happens is that, in his effort to continue being what Cas will later inform him is called a _brat,_ Dean overreaches his vocabulary and states that Sam’s lofty ideals about socialized medicine are, at best, quixotic. Sam kindly informs him that maybe _romanticized and unrealistic in the short term_ would be a more accurate statement, and Cas’ raised eyebrow says he basically knows Dean has been googling Q words when no one is looking, so he stops poking the bear at that point. It’s his fifteenth and final Q word of the dinner party, and it seems like a pretty good note to leave it on, anyway.

When they get back to Cas’ place, Cas is all smiles. For a few minutes, as they shed suit jackets and dispense with shoes, Dean could be forgiven for thinking that he’s off the hook. Deep down, he knows he isn’t, but he lets the illusion live as long as Cas permits it. It doesn’t last long. Dean is just starting to be lulled into a false sense of security when Cas pipes up.

“So were you keeping track?” he calls placidly. Dean keeps his head down, focused on scrolling through Netflix under the guise of picking a movie to watch. He knew when he sat down they were never going to get to it, but best to play it off like he’s not counting every second until Cas decides to exact his punishment.

“Keeping track of what?” Dean asks, feigning ignorance.

“Your Q’s.” Cas drops onto the couch beside him, throwing a lazy arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Do you have any idea how many times you broke my rule during dinner? Because I do.” Dean turns his head slowly, letting a mischievous smirk paint itself across his features as he looks at Cas. There’s no fear in his eyes, no apprehension, but the look that Cas gives him in return says that Cas has all sorts of bad ideas about how this evening is going to go.

“You know,” Dean tells him with a cocky air to his voice, “I didn’t think to count. I think it was a lot though.”

“Fifteen.” Cas’ voice is completely flat as he relays the information. “You used the letter Q fifteen times this evening. That’s 75 spankings. Your ass is going to be so red by the time I’m done with you.” Dean’s face falls just slightly. He truly _was_ counting, just not actually doing the math as to how many spankings that translated to. Still, he did set out to push buttons, so this is exactly what he should have expected.

“But,” Cas continues, such a casual and musical tone to his words, “since the entire point of this exercise was to see how well you do at obeying rules, not to see how thoroughly you can break them, I feel like an additional level of punishment is in order. In my top drawer, you’ll find lube and a selection of plugs. Bring me the black one. You have one minute.” Cas claps his hands to punctuate the end of the order. Dean wastes probably 15 seconds of his minute just staring at Cas, trying to figure out what he’s scheming at. “You’d best get going,” Cas informs him. “I haven’t decided what’ll happen if you aren’t back within your 60 seconds, but I guarantee you won’t like it.”

Dean springs into action, ducking around the edge of the coffee table and weaving his way through the apartment to Cas’ bedroom. He flings open the drawer, which had previously held only lube and a couple of dildos, and is both startled and pleased to see an assortment of plugs, a pair of leather cuffs, a few cock rings, and a pair of clips that Dean can only assume are nipple clamps. He wishes he wasn’t on a timeline because he’d love to peruse the offerings a bit further. As it stands, he figures there’s just enough time to get his hands on the plug that Cas indicated (not the largest of the selection but certainly not tiny) and a bottle of lube before he catches even more heat than he’s already in. He makes his way back to the living room just as Cas is counting out the final seconds in his allotment.

“Three, two, ah, there you are,” Cas says approvingly when he returns. “Good boy. Show me.” Dean proffers the objects in his hand, letting Cas take them from him wordlessly and watching him set them down on the coffee table. He’s turned the TV off and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, but he’s still buttoned up to the throat with his blue and white tie knotted snugly. That tie gives Dean the dirtiest thoughts, and it probably always will.

“Strip,” he commands. “Everything but the panties. Hands and knees on the couch so I can get this plug in you.” Dean trips over his own feet in his hurry to obey, stripping off clothes with very little care for where he drops things and climbing onto the couch to present his ass proudly. “Hmm, I was right. You do look good in black lace.” Cas caresses Dean’s panties, teasing his fingertips under the elastic at the waistband. He cups the curve of Dean’s ass with hungry reverence, making pleased sounds as he watches Dean twist and squirm under the attention. Finally, he pushes the panties out of the way and breaches Dean with one slick fingertip, teasing him open like he’s done so many times before. Dean relaxes easily under his attentions, sighing and dropping his head down to the couch cushions as Cas works him up to two fingers, scissoring and twisting until he’s loose and pliant. Then, just when Dean is starting to have fun, Cas’ fingers are gone, replaced with that slick black plug, the base nestled between his cheeks quite neatly.

“You can get up now.” Cas swats him gently on the ass, so gently that Dean is sure it doesn’t count as one of his 75, and Dean pushes himself up onto his knees to turn and face Cas. There’s a grin on Cas’ face that Dean thinks he likes best of all, this devious sort of smile that promises all kinds of bad things. His eyes dip down to make note of how much Dean’s cock strains against the frail lace of his panties. “I think we need to get you lots more of those,” he decrees, gesturing at Dean’s crotch. “This is a good look for you. You’ll take your punishment over my knee, I think.” Cas seats himself on the couch and nods to Dean, then his lap, the command clear in his actions.

Dean stares at him incredulously. “Dude, no way. I’m not climbing over your lap so you can spank me.”

“Why not?” Cas counters calmly. “I know it’s not the spanking you have a problem with, and I can’t imagine what sort of objection you’d have to going across my knee.”

“It’s…degrading,” Dean says uncertainly.

“Laying across my knee is degrading?” Cas raises an eyebrow, the question spoken flatly. “Very well. Are you calling red? Because if not, I expect you to obey my orders.”

“No,” Dean pronounces, much more firmly than he spoke before. “I’m not tapping out. I just…”

Further protest is cut off by Cas’ arm shooting up to grab Dean by the scruff of the neck, offsetting his balance and pitching him forward to fall gracelessly over Cas’ lap. He manages to catch himself on his hands before faceplanting, but the pressure of Cas’ hand on the back of his neck keeps him from doing anything else.

“There. That isn’t so bad, is it?” Cas murmurs with saccharine sweetness. “Any further protests?”

“No,” Dean mutters petulantly. It really isn’t that bad, he supposes. As soon as the word is out of his mouth, Cas’ hand starts to fall, fast and hard, and Dean yelps in surprise. When he composes himself a moment later, he decides it’s a good idea to continue being, as he has been all evening, a brat.

“Slow down there. Wouldn’t want this to be over too quick,” he snarks over his shoulder, twitching a little as Cas’ hand falls right over the base of the plug, driving it deeper and sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. Cas ignores his sass and continues spanking, raining down blows with varying intensity and no discernable pattern. He hits the plug frequently, and by the twentieth stroke Dean is moaning in pleasure, losing the battle to keep his hips still.

“You know, this is supposed to be a punishment. If you enjoy it this much I might have to find a different way to punish you in future,” Cas warns.

“Sorry,” Dean offers, clearly not sorry at all. “I just have such a hard time keeping quiet when you get your hands on me.”

“If you think for a second that I’m not adding each of those Q’s to your total,” Cas tells him calmly, slapping his ass three more times, “you are sorely mistaken.” He keeps spanking, turning Dean’s ass a lovely shade of red, and though Dean manages to do a little better at keeping his mouth shut, his hips jerk with every strong smack and he does a terrible job of keeping still. He pushes his ass out in hopes that he can force Cas to jostle the plug more, giving him pleasure to mix with the pain. Cas, of course, catches onto him right away.

“You just don’t know when to quit,” Cas sighs, shaking his head. He releases his hold on Dean’s neck and goes to work on his own tie.

“That’s a Q,” Dean offers helpfully.

“The rule doesn’t apply to me,” Cas informs him. “I’m not the bad boy who can’t take simple instructions. And you’re getting another five for that.” He slaps Dean’s ass again, _hard,_ and takes advantage of the way it throws Dean off balance to grab his arms and pin his wrists behind his back. Dean falls heavily to the couch, all his weight resting on his chest and knees now, ass still presented proudly in the air for Cas to go to town on. Cas quickly binds Dean’s hands with his tie and resumes his work without another word.

He is merciless, completely without compassion. His hand falls hard and fast and erratically, moving seemingly at random to smack Dean’s ass and thighs until he’s warm all over, stinging everywhere Cas touches. It doesn’t hurt any less when that hand lands over the small portion of his ass that’s covered by the panties. If anything, it’s more startling, because those tend to be the slaps that also hit the base of the plug, and the jolt of pleasure has his cock leaking so much that he’s sure there’s a wet spot forming on the front of his lacy panties.

Dean moans and writhes as best he can, but there’s really nothing he can do except lie there and take it. He’d have no luck extricating himself from Cas’ lap unless he had help, and he doesn’t want to get away anyway. Despite his earlier reservations about the humiliation of draping himself across his boyfriend’s lap to receive a punishment, Dean is quickly finding that this is, for lack of a better word, awesome. He’s hard as a rock, straining against a thin scrap of lace for the first time in he has no idea how long, his ass is probably a bright red glow by now, and Cas show no signs of letting up. This lap is exactly where he needs to be.

“Beautiful,” Cas breathes, stopping the sting of his palm to caress Dean’s red ass reverently. “I can’t wait to fuck you like this. Just push your panties aside and sink my cock into your perfect ass. You want that, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” Dean groans, pushing his hips back to show Cas how willing he is, how ready.

“Yes _sir,”_ Cas corrects him. “I don’t see how I can be expected to believe your punishment has had an effect when you can’t even remember your manners.”

“Sorry, sir,” Dean replies coolly.

“That’s not very convincing. I think, if I’m going to spend my time correcting your behavior, it’s only reasonable that you should show me some respect.” Cas sighs, exaggerated. “If you want me to continue, you’ll think very carefully about what you say next.”

Oh, fuck. Dean is so glad that Cas can’t see his face right now because he’s probably a total mess. He’s got his lower lip trapped between his teeth to keep in the desperate moan he wants to let loose and his eyes are wide as saucers. He has no idea how he got to be the kind of person who gets madly turned on by being bossed around, but he’s _so_ glad Cas figured it out.

“Please sir,” Dean whimpers. He doesn’t even have to try to make his voice sound needy. It just happens. “I’ll be good, I promise. Please, let me have the rest of my punishment. I promise. Please sir!” The last bit comes out high and breathy, so fucking debauched that Dean’s not sure he’s could replicate the sound if he tried.

“Then stay still and take your punishment like a good boy,” Cas commands him. The spanking starts again, fast and fierce, and it’s all Dean can do to keep his hips steady while he takes it. God, does he love the pain. He shouldn’t. It’s such a dirty secret, the way he gets off on hurting like this, but Cas just makes it all so good. He wails when Cas hits the plug again, so firmly it has to be intentional, and then the spanks finally cease. Cas grips the base of the plug, pushing and twisting it cruelly just to listen to Dean whimper.

“Are you going to obey my rules better next time?” Cas demands.

“Yes sir,” Dean tells him, and he means it.

“Good,” Cas affirms sternly. He pushes Dean’s panties out of the way, pulling the plug out and dropping it onto the table, then teases the tips of his fingers against Dean’s slick hole. “You’re going to ride me now, Dean,” Cas tells him almost conversationally, chuckling softly at the moan it draws from Dean’s lips. Dean was right, he does require assistance to set himself to rights. Cas helps him up onto his knees, guiding Dean to straddle his lap with one hand while he unzips his pants with the other. He pushes his pants down quickly, then pulls a condom out of his pocket and rolls it on, coaxing Dean high onto his knees so he can tug his panties to the side and fit the head of his cock to Dean’s slick hole.

Dean sinks down as slowly as his thighs will let him, feeling every inch of Cas splitting him open and filling him up. Cas holds his hips the whole time, shushing him and purring soft words of praise as Dean takes him in, not letting up for a second until Dean’s red hot ass is pressed against his bare thighs.

“Don’t suppose you plan on untying my hands so I can do this properly?” Dean asks, already sure of the answer.

“No,” Cas replies. “I have no intention of doing that. Whenever you’re ready, you can move.” Dean groans, dropping his chin to his chest, and begins trying to fuck himself on Cas’ cock. Without his hands to brace himself, it’s hard to get any kind of a rhythm going. It feels good, but not good enough. He wants to take Cas deeper and harder and faster, but he’s restricted by the power in his thighs. It’s such a tease.

Cas doesn’t move his hips at all, though if he did it could give Dean the pleasure he craves. No, he keeps his ass firmly planted in the couch and leans forward to take one of Dean’s nipples in his mouth, licking and nibbling at the pert, pink nub. It sends thrills through Dean’s body, pleasure bordering on pain as Cas bites down and soothes the nipple with his tongue, clearly intent on overwhelming Dean’s senses.

“Fuck,” Dean bites out. It’s not enough. “Cas, I…I can’t.”

“You can baby,” Cas purrs, running the flat of his tongue over Dean’s nipple. He slides his hand off of Dean’s hip and strokes along the line of his cock through black lace, teasing a fingertip around the head. He’s made a mess of his panties, steadily leaking precome to soak through the fabric. “Keep going, Dean.”

And Dean does. He keeps going. Or at least, he tries to. His thighs burn with the effort but it’s so patently unsatisfying. A desperate whine escapes his throat as Cas rubs his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, just enough friction to taunt. He tugs against the tie holding his hands which serves to accomplish nothing except causing it to rub uncomfortably. If he could just get his hands free it would be so much better. He could grab onto the back of the couch, steady himself as he drove his hips down, start to get a real rhythm going. He could take Cas deeper. It could be so good.

“Please,” Dean whimpers desperately. “It’s not enough. Come on Cas.”

“Oh but you look so good like this,” Cas croons. His hand caresses over Dean’s hip, sliding around behind to tease a finger against Dean’s slick rim, stretched open where Cas’ cock sinks into him.

“Feels so much better when you fuck me,” Dean pleads. “Just fuckin’ do it.”

Cas arches an eyebrow. “Who’s giving the orders now?” he growls.

“Still you. Always you. But please…” Dean cuts off with a moan as Cas’ mouth latches onto a nipple again, his teeth pinching as his tongue swirls in wet circles. “C’mon Cas, give it to me.”

Cas hums against his chest and Dean can feel his lips curl upwards into a wicked smile. “Very well,” he concedes, his tongue darting out to tease Dean’s nipple one last time. He moves so fast Dean is startled by it, manhandling Dean onto his back on the couch, arms still bound behind him and trapped beneath his back. Cas grabs Dean behind the knees, pushing his legs up to expose his ass and slides in with one long stroke, groaning as his cock is once again sheathed in Dean’s heat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Dean murmurs happily. It doesn’t matter that he’s completely immobilized, or that now that he’s pinned down with Cas driving into him, a great deal of the force is absorbed by the stinging red skin on his ass. In fact, he’s learning very quickly that he kinda likes it this way. When he’s totally at Cas’ mercy, he doesn’t have to think or plan or act. All he has to do is give himself over to the pleasure.

It doesn’t hurt that Cas seems to enjoy it just as much. When Dean wriggles beneath him his grin grows wider and his eyes go dark, hazy with lust and mad with desire. When Dean moans and begs and whimpers about how good it feels, Cas goes harder, fucking into him with reckless abandon, deep strokes that tag his prostate and drive him wild. He welcomes the collision of Cas’ hips against his ass, the sparks of pain along his skin a gorgeous accompaniment to the pleasure of the cock splitting him open and the wet slide of lace over his dick.

It’s such a delicious mingling of sensations that before too long, Dean finds himself gasping for breath, a filthy litany of gratitude and profanity spilling from his lips as he comes. It seeps through his panties and splatters on his stomach, and Dean is momentarily embarrassed by how fast he gave himself over to orgasm and how debauched he must look. It all fades away when he sees the way Cas looks at him, though. There’s hunger in his eyes, a desperate desire for the pleasure his body can provide, but there’s also a kind of reverence that Dean nearly shies away from. Cas cares for him, something real and unyielding, and Dean can’t bring himself to feel ashamed in the face of that kind of connection. He sags boneless and fucked out and blissful, moaning softly as Cas takes what he needs, so happy to be able to provide even half the pleasure that Cas has already given him.

When Cas goes stiff and groans out in release, he nearly collapses down on top of Dean. It’s like all the strength he has goes into the final thrusts and it’s all he can do to avoid tumbling down as he falls over the edge. As it stands, it’s a very near thing, Cas catching himself on the back of the couch with one hand as the other clings to Dean’s leg. His mouth falls open and he looks so stunning with joy painted across his features like this. It’s nothing like the faces he made in his films. Dean is only distantly aware of making the comparison but it’s there all the same. When he fucked on camera it was a physical release, working towards the stimulation that would get his director the shot he needed. The pleasure was second.

This, though…this is something else entirely, a shared moment between Dean and Cas that amounts to so much more than just the culmination of physical and chemical conditions required for orgasm. This is more than sex. It’s connection, and it’s bonding, and it might just be something else, something starting with a capital L that Dean isn’t sure he’s ready to say out loud but is entirely certain he feels.

Dean knows he’s staring, mouth hanging open in silent awe, as Cas pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom. He doesn’t really regain any composure in the time it takes Cas to help him up and untie his hands, carefully massaging his wrists to make sure they haven’t gone to sleep in the time they’ve been bound beneath him. Dean’s happy to sag back to the couch when he’s free, drawing Cas in close as soon as he’s able. Neither of them seems to mind the mess of Dean’s ruined panties.

Dean will want a shower soon, but right now he’s not really interested in standing or moving or doing really anything except lying here with Cas in his arms. There’s several moments of comfortable silence, their syncopated breaths the only sound in the room, before either of them moves at all. Cas snuggles closer, nuzzling his face against Dean’s throat.

“I fuckin’ love you, you know that?” Cas mutters, his arms tight around Dean’s waist.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs back. “Fuckin’ love you too, Cas.” Turns out, he _is_ ready to say it out loud, he just needed a little bit of a push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. What can I say, I'm a sucker for Dean in panties. I'll never apologize for this.


	11. A Call To Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a little bit more to the story of Cas and Dean meeting than originally revealed, and someone has been keeping a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is finished! Kinda! There are still 3 more chapters coming after this one, which are written but still need to be edited. This means you can count on a chapter a week for each of the next 3 weeks, but it also means I can start working on other projects so yaaaaaay

“Settle something for me,” Dean begins, handing his menu over to the smiling waiter in the too-tight shirt. Cas inclines his head in query, toying with one of the plugs in his earlobe so idly it’s almost as if he’s unaware he’s doing it. Dean waits until the waiter walks away before continuing. “Who did you actually mean to send that picture to?”

“What picture?”  Cas asks, feigning innocence.

“You know the one. The unsolicited dick pic you sent me. Who was it for?”

“The story goes exactly the way I told your brother,” he replies with a coy smile. “A coworker gave me his number and due to terrible penmanship, I got you by mistake. He wasn’t anyone I ever filmed with, if you’re wondering, although he was talent with the studio. Never did end up hooking up with him, actually.” Cas smiles fondly. “I should send that fucker a thank you card.”

Dean laughs, licking his lips. “I’ll cosign.” For a few moments his attention is absorbed entirely by the ice cold bottle of beer in front of him, the label peeling in tiny strips under the machinations of his blunt fingernails.

“You know,” Cas informs him, “They say that people who peel the labels off their bottles are sexually frustrated.”

“Oh they do, do they? They say that?” Dean says with a wry twist of his lips.

“It’s been said,” Cas replies. “I’ve heard it said.”

“Do I look sexually frustrated to you?”

Cas contemplates, his head inclining to the left again in a way that Dean continues to find remarkably endearing. “I’m not sure. You could be.”

“I’m sure as fuck not,” Dean affirms.

“Are you certain? I’d hate to think you’re not satisfied. We could always have more sex.”

Dean snorts. “I’m never gonna say no to that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cas replies noncommittally.

“Hey, when we had dinner with my brother and Jess, was that the same tie?” Dean stops picking at the label on his beer in favor of drinking it, noting that Cas’ label is still perfectly intact

“What, from the picture I sent you?”

“Yeah, the one with the tie and the hat and the popsicle.” Even now, when he’s _intimately_ familiar with Cas and has more than enough actual memories to fuel his fire, thinking about that night and that picture is enough to get his heart beating a little faster. It’s possible that bringing this up in public was a terrible idea.

Cas nods. “The same one. I think it’s like, the only tie I own. I might have another one in the back of my closet. I don’t know. I don’t wear a lot of suits, if you haven’t noticed. It’s lucky for me you said blue and not like, green or paisley or something, or I might never have gotten my hands on you.” His voice drops low and sinful. “And I do like getting my hands on you.”

“It’s lucky you had a popsicle and a cowboy hat, too,” Dean reminds him.

“Well, not really. I had to run out to 7-Eleven to get a popsicle.”

“Just so you could prove to a stranger that you weren’t catfishing?” Dean laughs. “That’s dedication.”

“I told you,” Cas reminds him. “I was bored, and I’d just figured out I wasn’t getting my booty call. I feel like it was a good use of my time. Besides, I already had the hat and the tie. I wasn’t about to let a lack of frozen desserts defeat me.”

“Why do you have a cowboy hat, anyway?” Dean inquires in what he hopes is a convincingly offhand tone of voice.

“You mean you don’t already know?” Cas fires back incredulously. “Seriously?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not a clue. Should I?”

“It was a prop from one of the final shoots I did. I forget you didn’t watch the last of my videos. There was this one towards the end that was a cowboy theme kind of thing, log cabin setting, hats and spurs and the whole deal. I don’t think they expected me to take the costume home with me but I gotta be honest, I thought I looked pretty damn good in it so I kept a few things.”

Dean swallows. Hard. He takes a careful breath before opening his mouth to speak. “I uh…I don’t suppose you kept the boots, did you?”

The smirk Cas gives him in return , one that makes it clear that Dean has not managed even a little bit of subtlety. “Oh yes,” Cas tells him. “The boots and the hat and the bolo tie and the belt buckle. Why? You have a thing for cowboys?”

Dean’s throat is suddenly very dry. He reaches for his beer with a hand that is surprisingly steady, drawing a long sip to buy time to pull himself together. He sets the beer down carefully, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe,” he admits. Maybe nothing. Fucking definitely.

“I see,” Cas offers mysteriously. Dean’s saved from further interrogation by the arrival of their meals. The waiter sets a burger and fries down in front of each of them, and Dean pretends he’s not thoroughly mortified by the accidental revelation of his cowboy kink as he dives into his meal. The fries are perfectly crispy and salty, so hot the first few burn his mouth. Not hot enough to stop him from eating more though, apparently. Cas’ wicked grin melts into a fond and affectionate smile before he picks up his own burger, and he’s just about to take a bite when his phone vibrates across the table.

“Fuck,” he groans, relegating the burger back to his plate and reaching for the phone. He answers the call and raises the device to his ear. “Hello?” he says, his face a mask of disdain. Dean busies himself with his meal and his beer, but it’s impossible not to hear Cas’ side of the conversation.

“You don’t listen very well, do you Gabriel?” Cas says. “I already told you no.” A pause, fairly brief, and then, “not for any amount of money.” Then a longer pause, a weighty sigh. “If I’d changed my mind, I assure you I would have called. You need to stop harassing—“ Then Cas cuts off with a deathly glower, a sure sign that he’s been interrupted. He listens to the other side of the conversation for just a few seconds then, clearly fed up with the entire ordeal, calmly pulls the phone away from his ear, ends the call, and silences his phone.

“Sorry about that,” he tells Dean, reaching for his beer and drinking deeply.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean tells him. It’s not the phone call Dean’s worried about anyway. Conversation is a stilted affair after that. Any thoughts Cas might have had about pressing further on the cowboy thing are lost in the blackness of his mood. His replies are short and curt, and Dean knows it’s Gabriel he’s mad at but it still kinda sours the entire evening.  Cas is still muttering under his breath and barely interacting by the time they leave the pub.  His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he projects an air of general misery.

“Hey,” Dean says, pulling Cas out of his grumbling. “I’m sorry Gabriel’s being such a dick. It’s gotta be pretty frustrating to have him keep pushing when you’ve made it clear you don’t wanna do the thing anymore.” Dean knows it’s a weak consolation, comfort from a boyfriend who knows nothing of the industry, but he’s not really good at this talking about feelings thing so the fact that he’s even trying is kind of an accomplishment.

Cas sighs. “That’s kind of the problem,” he admits, slipping one hand out of his pocket to push a lock of hair off of his forehead. “I actually _do_ want to do the thing.”

Dean stops in his tracks, boots thudding on the concrete as he grabs Cas’ hand to halt his march too. “So why did you say no? Why do you keep saying no if you want to do this?”

Cas won’t meet his eyes. He glances sideways, staring at the ground and avoiding the question. “That’s my old life,” Cas informs him sadly. “I have you now.”

“You think I want to keep you from doing something you want to do? You honestly think this is a problem for me? I’ve known what you did since long before we got together and it’s never bothered me. It sure the fuck isn’t going to start bugging me now.” Dean’s surprised at the heat in his own voice, but he doesn’t make any attempts to cool it down. “If you wanna get back in front of the camera, you owe it to yourself to do that.”

Cas scoffs, running his hand through his messy locks. “You say that like it’s so simple, but it’d ruin everything. You think it’s a coincidence that I’ve been single for years and I only managed to find you after I got out? Porn stars don’t make good boyfriends, Dean. If I get back in, I’m just going to end up losing you. I can’t ask you to stay with me while I’m fucking other guys for a living. Look, just forget it. I like directing. I’m good at it. I don’t need to get back on screen. Gabriel will give up eventually. Let’s just go home.”

“No.” Dean says firmly.

“Excuse me?” Cas stares at him, eyes wild. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean I’m not going to let this go. You want to get back to work. Gabriel wants to give you work. I want you to be happy. I can’t think of a single reason for you not to get back to it. It doesn’t bother me, thinking about you doing more films.”

“You say that now, but it won’t last. I’ll start filming again and eventually it’ll be too much. I’ll do something in one of my movies that makes you jealous, or you’ll start thinking that I would rather be fucking those guys than you, and it’ll end.” He sighs, dejected. “And it’ll be my fault.”

“Cas,” Dean says firmly but affectionately. “I don’t know how else to say this. I’m in this. I’m into you. And if this is what you want to do then I’m not going to stand in your way and I’m not going anywhere either. I fucking love you, you asshole. Now, are you going to call Gabriel, or do I have to?”

Cas smiles softly, one of those rare real smiles that hides behind his bravado. The kind of smile he reserves only for Dean. “You’d better not. If he gets you on the phone he’s not going to stop trying to get _you_ in front of the camera.”

“Maybe I should let him,” Dean replies, teasing. He pulls Cas in close and wraps arms around his waist, kissing his chapped lips softly. “If that’s what it would take to convince you how OK I am with all of this. Now are you going to keep fighting me?”

“I guess I’m going to call Gabriel back,” Cas murmurs with a note of resignation. There’s a grin on his lips though, happy to be done with this internal conflict that he’s been waging since before he and Dean even met. “But I’m going to tell him I’m only signing on for one shoot. I’m not getting into a contract until I’m sure this isn’t really a problem. I’ll do _one_ shoot, and then you and I are going to talk about this again. And If I think you’re lying about not being jealous or upset about it, I’m quitting for good, understand?”

“That’s a perfectly reasonable plan,” Dean tells him, reaching into Cas’ pocket to fish his phone out. He drops it into Cas’ hand. “Glad you didn’t need more convincing though, ‘cause I gotta be honest, I have no plans on letting Gabriel talk me into joining the ranks.”

“I’m not calling him _now,”_ Cas insists. “Too much traffic noise. I’ll call him when we get back to my place.” This is good enough for Dean, so he slips his hand into Cas’ and they set off down the street again.

Dean hides in the kitchen while Cas makes the call, ostensibly mixing a celebratory drink, but whiskey on the rocks doesn’t really take any actual mixing and he can still hear every word of Cas’ side of the conversation.

“I know,” he’s telling Gabriel. “I was there, remember? But I do want to do it. I just…don’t you think it’s a bit weird to be in the talent pool when I’m directing? I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up on that. The studio took some chances letting me direct my first few projects. If I go running back to fucking on camera, how’s that going to look?”

Gabriel apparently has a lot to say on the subject, because Cas is silent for quite some time after that. He comes into the kitchen to press a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck and steal one of the glasses. Dean gives him a questioning look, concerned about the direction of the negotiations, but Cas brushes him off with a devious smile and a shake of his head.

“I’m not so sure,” Cas insists. “What if they decide they don’t want to back me as a director afterwards? It’s pretty risky. Why would they want to put anything into giving me projects when they have me on contract as talent?” He smirks, his expression smug, and Dean thinks he’s starting to get an idea of where this is going.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Cas says with a laugh. “I suppose that makes it worth my while. One film only though. No contract. Single film deal, and if I decide I want to do more I’ll approach you, not the other way around. And all my same rules as before. I reserve the right to reject any other talent choices if I don’t want to fuck them, you have my list of kink vetos, no barebacking, all of it.”

Dean smiles to himself, listening as Cas proves himself a master negotiator. He came to Gabriel wanting everything he was offering, and he’s still managing to spin this deal so that Gabriel is offering him even more.

“So we’re agreed then. Single film, my standard contract, and fifteen percent more than my previous per-film price. Send over the paperwork in the morning and I’ll sign, and then you can forward me the when and where. Goodbye, Gabriel.” Cas hangs up the phone with a grin on his face, rather pleased with himself.

“That went well,” Dean observes, joining Cas in the living room with his own drink. “You got everything you wanted?”

“Almost everything,” Cas admits, a thoughtful smile on his face. “Let’s go see if I can dig out those cowboy boots. I think, all things considered, it’s a good time for a rodeo.”

 


	12. Save a Horse, Ride a Porn Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean gets something he's dreamed about for a very long time, and it's even better than he'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently at my own birthday party. Currently have 38 comments in my inbox that require replies. I haven't forgotten you. I'm definitely going to reply but it'll probably be tomorrow, mid hangover. Just FYI

From the second Cas strides into the room, Dean is on board. Hell, Dean can barely believe his eyes. He knows exactly what he’s seeing and he’s infinitely grateful, but his brain can’t process the fact that it’s real. This is the kind of thing Dean would have fantasized about before he met Cas. It’s the kind of thing he’d be red faced in embarrassment to _admit_ he fantasized about. And it’s totally fucking awesome.

The hat he expected, and he already knows from photographic evidence that it’s hot as fuck. That part isn’t really a huge surprise. The boots, too. He had a pretty solid idea on how appealing he’d find those. He hadn’t really anticipated Cas walking in totally naked except for the accessories though, so he’s still picking his jaw up off the floor by the time Cas approaches. Dean’s seated on the bed, already stripped down to his boxer shorts, and as Cas comes to a halt in the middle of the room he takes in the additional details.

There’s a long section of rope coiled over Cas’ shoulder, the kind someone in a spaghetti western would use for a lasso. Dean’s no stranger to rope at this point and the sight of it gives him a little thrill of anticipation. He yearns for the rough slide of jute against his skin, eager for the kinds of things that seem to happen regularly when Cas gets in a mood to tie him up.

And that’s not all.  Slung around Cas’ gorgeous hips is a worn leather holster, the gun that would normally find a home there replaced with Cas’ favourite vibrator. It’s a long pink thing, sparkly and with a slight curve to the end that Dean knows from experience is intended to target the prostate.

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, raking his eyes over Cas’ body with appreciation. “You look good.”

“Yeah? You like?” Cas does a little turn, smirking at Dean over his shoulder. He gives his ass a wiggle, showing off just a little, and hooks his thumbs into the belt of his holster.

“Hell yeah I like,” Dean confirms, pushing the heel of his hand against his cock just to get a little friction. “Was expecting jeans and plaid too, but I’m not gonna complain about this.”

“No, see, if I start out with pants on then I gotta take the boots off to fuck you, and I’m thinking you probably want me to keep those on.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dean confirms. “So what’s the plan, cowboy?”

Cas lets a sly smile spread over his lips, tipping the brim of his hat low over his eyes. “Thought I’d rope me a boyfriend,” he answers coyly, slipping the coil of rope off his shoulder, unwinding it slowly to reveal that he’s got a loop tied at one end. Dean doesn’t have the experience to be certain, but he thinks it might be a proper lasso. “Why don’t you go ahead and take those shorts off. They’re just gonna get in the way.” Dean raises an eyebrow, but complies quickly, lifting his hips off the bed to shimmy out of his boxers and toss them to the floor. Once he’s naked, Cas grins broadly and swings the lasso around to his side.

“You know what you’re doing with that thing?” Dean asks, not entirely able to suppress his skepticism. Cas shakes his head ruefully, a soft laugh slipping out.

“Not really. Lemme try anyway. Put your hands out.” Dean does as he’s told, holding his arms out with wrists together. Cas swings the lasso around above his head just like in the movies, then tosses the loop out towards Dean. It misses completely, landing on the bed far enough from Dean’s hands that it’s clear he never stood a chance of succeeding. Cas sighs mournfully, but pulls the rope back in for a second try.

The next attempt is no more successful.

The third is actually even worse. The rope sails past Dean’s outstretched hands and hits him in the face, and that’s the point where Cas decides to give up. He stalks across the room, just a little bit grumpy, and loops the rope over Dean’s hands manually, tightening the lasso until Dean’s hands are secured. He wraps the tail of the rope around a few times to form a cuff, tying it off neatly, then backs away a few feet.

“Come here,” he commands, tugging on the rope to pull Dean to his feet. It’s awkward to scoot himself toward the edge of the bed without use of his hands, but Dean manages, getting upright just as Cas jerks on the rope again. He stumbles forward and nearly falls to his knees, managing to catch his balance just in time. Dean’s mouth opens to utter a protest, but before any words can form he’s being kissed soundly. His dick bumps against Cas’ thick erection as he leans into the kiss.

Still holding the makeshift leash with one hand, Cas palms Dean’s ass with the other, cupping the curve and squeezing appreciatively. There’s nothing heated about the touch but it still gets Dean going, the suggestion of something more intense than just making out with his hands bound in scratchy rope doing quite a good job of getting Dean into the right headspace. He moans softly as Cas nips at his lower lip, letting himself become pliant under the touch of his roaming hands. Every few passes or so, Cas’ hand gets just a little bit closer to his crack until a single fingertip brushes against it, teasing at the idea of more. Moments later, he slips in, nudging a digit against Dean’s hole and eliciting a full body shudder. Dean cants his hips back, urging Cas to go for it, but he doesn’t get what he’s asking for.

“Ah ah ah,” Cas chides. “I decide.”

“Aw come on, Cas. I thought this was supposed to be a celebration. We’re celebrating, right?”

“Sure,” Cas assures him, as fingernails drag bluntly across the soft skin of Dean’s ass. “We’re celebrating. But it’s my party. Indulge me a little. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always do,” Dean admits.  “Okay, I’ll play. What’s your game?”

Cas answers him with a few sharp smacks to his ass. “Well you’re getting tied up, that’s for damn sure. And you know, when a cowboy ropes a calf, usually there’s some branding involved. Branding irons are conspicuously absent from my toybox, but I think I can probably come up with another way to mark you as mine. And I feel confident I can get you screaming for an entirely different reason.”

“That sounds…” Dean begins, letting out a shaky breath before continuing. “That sounds fucking awesome.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cas confirms. His lips find the pulse point on Dean’s throat, sucking what promises to be the first of many bruises into his freckled skin. “I’ve only ever hit you with my hand so far. You think you can handle something a bit more intense?”

“How much more intense?” Dean inquires, intrigued despite himself.

“Belt leather,” Cas tells him confidently. Clearly, he’s pretty sure that Dean is going to be into this, and far be it from Dean to disappoint him. Not like he could if he wanted to. His cock is smearing enough precome along the inside of Cas’ thigh that he’d have a hard time convincing Cas he wasn’t on board.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m good with that.” How far he’s come in such a short time. It wasn’t long ago that Dean wouldn’t even admit he liked being held down in bed. Now he’s excited about heavy impact play with a guy in a cowboy costume, and he’s not even trying to pretend he doesn’t want it.

Cas grins wickedly, pressing his lips to Dean’s for one more kiss that carries with it plenty of lewd promises. Then, still clutching the rope lead in his hands, he spins Dean around by the shoulders and shoves him onto the bed. Dean lands with a bounce and stays there face down, denied the use of his hands by the grace of rope and the fact that they’re currently trapped beneath his body. Carefully, Cas adjusts the rope so it runs straight back between Dean’s thighs.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen, baby,” Cas croons, a devious kind of mirth in his voice. “I’m gonna let go of this rope, and you’re gonna get your knees under you, put that pretty little ass up in the air, and you’re gonna stay there while I get my belt. And while I’m doing that, I want you to think about how many times you think I can hit you with it. You give me a number, tell me what you can handle, and I’ll mark you up real good.”

As soon as Dean feels the tension go out of the rope, he knows Cas has stepped away. He scrambles to obey, shifting his weight awkwardly until he can get first one knee, then the other, tucked up under his body to lift his hips high, presenting his ass in the air for Cas to use as he pleases. That thought alone is enough to excite him, the knowledge that Cas could do whatever he wanted while Dean is tied up. He’s never shown any inclination towards things Dean _wouldn’t_ want to do, but the fact that he’s bound and helpless just makes it all so much more thrilling, and their sex life was never boring to begin with.

He takes a moment to collect himself, drawing a deep breath before letting his mind wonder exactly what being strapped with a belt is going to feel like. It’ll hurt much more than Cas’ hand, that much is clear. How many times did Cas strike him that first time they played around with spanking? Fifty? That seemed like a lot at the time but the pain of each slap made the whole thing hotter. And the night they went to Sam and Jess’ house for dinner, when Dean broke the rules on purpose just to be a little shit, he knows he earned seventy-five, but he also knows that he goaded Cas into adding more after they started and there’s no part of his brain that can supply a clear number with any certainty. He can’t possibly take that many with a belt, at least not to start. Maybe some other time, when he’s used to the feeling of it, when he knows how his body responds and how he recovers.

There isn’t much time before Cas returns, so he needs to think fast. He needs to have a number ready to supply, and there’s part of Dean that thinks Cas already has something in mind so there’s that to consider too. He needs to think about what he can take, but also what Cas thinks he can take, and he needs to make sure he’s not overreaching what Cas is willing to give.

“What’s your color?” Cas demands to know, approaching the side of the bed and picking up the length of rope once more.

“Green,” Dean affirms confidently, eager for what’s coming next.

“How many?” Cas doesn’t even bother clarifying. They both know what he’s looking for.

“Thirty,” Dean replies hesitantly. It’s less than the spankings the first time around, but he figures with the heft of the belt it’s still probably plenty to have him crying out before they’re done.

“Thirty,” Cas repeats. “That sounds reasonable. Count them out for me, baby,” he commands, and in the space of a breath, the belt starts to fall.

The first few are clearly warm-up strokes, landing not quite gently across his skin, still enough to sting but definitely not with the full strength of Cas’ arm behind them. Dean calls out the numbers with confidence, pleased that his voice doesn’t waver. When they get to five, the intensity ramps up steadily, each individual stroke falling harder than the last. By ten, Dean’s ass is on fire and there’s an audible quaver to his voice. Cas drops the belt and runs his hands reverently over the heated flesh of Dean’s ass, murmuring praise and soothing encouragement.

Dean expects the belt to come back into play quite quickly after that, but as usual, Cas is full of surprises. He leans in to press hot kisses to Dean’s red skin, letting his tongue tease lightly along some of the more painful spots. It’s a remarkably soothing contrast to the pain he’s dished out thus far, and Dean finds himself sighing softly as he enjoys it. Then, without warning, Cas’ teeth are sinking into the curve of his ass, biting down sharply to coax a yelp out of Dean’s mouth. He sucks a purple bruise into the tender skin, his hands kneading at Dean’s ass the whole time, and when he’s satisfied with the mark, he pulls away with a soft _hmmph._

“Mine,” he affirms, then picks up the belt off the bed and resumes his work.

Dean only knows he’s successful in counting out the numbers from that point forward because Cas doesn’t give him shit for failing to keep up. He’s not really sure if the sounds coming out of his mouth are even words, but he is entirely sure that he sounds fucking wrecked. The belt was one thing, but having Cas leave a mark on him like that and then proclaim him so completely owned, it’s got Dean feeling so high he doesn’t think he’ll ever come down. And each stroke of the belt hurts, it _hurts_ , but all that pain sends adrenaline coursing through his veins, mixing with the other endorphins his brain is swimming in, and pushes him just a little closer to ecstasy. He welcomes the pain because it’s Cas giving it to him, because Cas makes him feel so good when he hurts, and this is everything Dean needed and never knew he wanted.

It’s a surprise when the belt stops connecting with his ass a second time, because Dean isn’t really sure how many strokes they’re at but he can’t bring himself to believe it’s done yet. He hears himself groaning with need as Cas presses more hot kisses to his abused flesh.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” Cas assures him. “You’ve got ten more coming. You think you can handle that?”

Dean moans out a yes in reply, trying valiantly to nod his head in approval and failing to get any kind of discernable signal out of the motion. “Yeah,” he moans again, just to be sure Cas heard him. “I can take it.”

“I know you can, my good boy,” Cas tells him, and then his teeth are worrying the other side of his ass, a mirror image of the first bite that has Dean writhing and gasping. How can something so painful feel so good, he wonders dimly. No answer comes in reply, but the pleasure is still there so it must be real.

Cas lays into him again without another word, and again, Dean is only certain he keeps up with the count because Cas doesn’t chastise him. Who knew he’d like the belt this much? Dean certainly had no idea. Cas might have, maybe, or it might have been a shot in the dark. Either way, Dean’s most pleased with the development.

By the time the thirtieth stroke lands, Dean is whining out the numbers with such desperation he can scarcely believe it. He’s heard himself whimper like this with a dick in his ass, when he’s getting fucked so hard and so deep and so good that it’s all he can do to make filthy noises and hang on for dear life. Never from a beating though, not that he’s got much experience with this kind of thing to be comparing it to, but still. Unexpected.

Cas says nothing. The belt falls to the bed with a soft clink, the buckle jostling as he drops it, and it’s only a matter of seconds before Cas’ fingers, slicked with lube Dean didn’t hear him grab, are teasing and probing at his hole. He opens Dean up quickly but thoroughly, all the while murmuring praise for how well he took the belt, how good he looks, how perfect and beautiful and _good_ Dean is, and Dean eats up every word of it. He could come just like this, the pain of thirty lashes lighting his ass on fire and Cas’ fingers buried between his red cheeks, but he knows Cas won’t let that happen. He’s going to get fucked, and it’s probably going to be hard, and he’s kinda thrilled at the prospect.

When he decides that Dean’s had enough prep, Cas pulls his fingers out and wipes the lube off on a discarded shirt, then settles back on his heels to inspect his work. He must like what he sees, because he makes a pleased humming sound, and leans in to work his mouth on Dean’s ass, sucking another mark onto his cheek. Dean moans desperately, enjoying the heat of Cas’ mouth and the way it both soothes and exacerbates the pain of the strapping.

“Fuck,” Cas groans. “Look at you.” His hand dips between Dean’s thighs, stroking so lightly at his balls that it’s nearly torture. It distracts Dean just enough that he’s not paying attention to his surroundings, and it catches him completely off guard when Cas grabs his legs and twists, flipping him onto his back. He lands solidly, grunting in surprise, and Cas is already grabbing more rope for whatever he has in mind before Dean has a chance to get his bearings.

A strange sort of cuff forms around Dean’s knee, rope wrapped around the joint over and over, then looped around and behind his leg so he can’t straighten it at all. Cas fastens it off securely, then does the same to the other, and finally, the tails of each binding cross over between his legs to form a sort of shackle, so that not only can’t he straighten his legs, he also can’t move them any farther apart. Cas looms over him, grinning as he takes the tail of his wrist cuffs and secures it to the shackle, and Dean is well and truly trapped.

“This is better than a hogtie,” Cas explains. “Because I can still get at your tight little ass when you’re tied up like this.” He proves his point by dipping his head down and sucking another mark on Dean’s inner thigh, then running the flat of his tongue up the underside of Dean’s cock, lapping at the precome that’s steadily leaking from the head before letting the entire length of it disappear into the perfect heat of his mouth. Dean cries out, hips bucking up into the pure pleasure of it, but Cas apparently only meant to tease, because his mouth is gone within seconds.

He gets another mark on his inner thigh, and one more on the lower curve of his ass, before Cas’ mouth returns to his balls, teasing them with the point of his tongue until Dean is just writhing with it, so turned on he can’t even form words.

“Mine,” Cas repeats, then takes Dean’s cock in his mouth again, swallowing him down to the hilt and letting the muscles of his throat constrict around the head until Dean’s sure he’s going to come before Cas ever gets around to fucking him. He hears himself moaning, debauched.  He might even be begging, but he can’t even begin to care. Cas can do whatever he wants at this point. Dean loves every second of it.

“Yours,” he breathes when Cas stops assaulting him with so much glorious sensation, and the ability to form conscious thoughts comes back. “All yours.”

Cas is apparently satisfied with that. He moves away just long enough to grab a condom and lube himself up and then he’s sinking his cock into Dean’s ass, bracing himself against Dean’s bound knees as he pushes forward slowly, letting Dean feel every inch of him before he bottoms out. His thighs finally rest against Dean’s ass, bringing the pain of his beating back into sharp focus, and Dean cries out before Cas even starts to move.

For all the buildup, all the teasing and the biting and the delicious agony of the belt, the actual fucking is such a short thing. Cas barely gets going, driving into Dean with long, deep strokes, and the combination of the glorious way his cock fills Dean up and the pain of the rhythmic collision against his ass is enough to push him over the edge. Right out of the gate, without Cas even touching his cock, Dean finds himself moaning Cas’ name as he spills over his own stomach, sagging in his ropes and silently hoping that, even though he’s done for, Cas will keep going.

No such luck. The pain and the pleasure were enough to bring Dean to climax nearly right away, but it doesn’t take too many more pumps before Cas is coming too, his mouth hanging open beautifully as he stiffens and groans and thrusts his last. Dean would have been happy to have Cas keep fucking him long after his own orgasm, it’s true, but it’s also kinda excellent when they come this close together, to have Cas chase him over the edge so quickly. It feels like something shared. Even in the haze that follows the intensity of what Dean’s been put through today, he can appreciate the profound nature of that connection.

He barely notices Cas fiddling with the ropes until suddenly, there’s no tension on his limbs and he’s left to sag back against the bed, arms and legs dropping heavily. He could move them if he wanted to, Dean maintains in his mind. It’s just that he has no desire to lift them is all. He’s comfortable here. It’s good.

“Hey,” Cas murmurs softly. “You with me?”

Dean’s reply is just as hoarse as he expects it to be, after the way he’s been hollering. “Yeah, I’m here,” he croaks. “That was awesome.”

“I know it was,” Cas tells him with a laugh. “I was there, remember?”

“Yeah but, I mean. The belt thing. That was…I never expected to like that so much.”

“And yet here we are,” comes Cas’ reply, a little bit of snark hiding in his words. “Fresh in the afterglow of seriously intense sex, talking about how much you love it when I bruise your ass up.”

“Lucky me,” Dean agrees, sitting up carefully. His ass is still on fire, and it’s gonna hurt to sit down for at least a couple of days he figures, but it’s totally worth it.

Cas smiles at him, leaning in for a remarkably chaste kiss considering what they just finished doing. “So hey,” he murmurs, doing a terrible job of pretending to be casual about it. “Since I’m going to be filming again, I thought I should mention. This…this thing we’ve been doing, with the spanking and the bondage, all that stuff? That’s just us. I know you haven’t asked me to, and I’m not sure you were planning on it, but listen, that’s only for you.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment, his face blank but only because he doesn’t know what to tell it to do. He truly hadn’t thought about it before this exact moment. That’s perhaps because, before this evening, he hadn’t given any consideration to what might happen if Cas were to start filming again. Once confronted with it, Dean finds himself unexpectedly touched by the gesture.

“You big softie,” Dean teases, throwing his arms around Cas’ waist and tugging him in close. “Such a romantic.” He smiles against Cas’ lips as they kiss, an unspoken acknowledgement that the weight of Cas’ concession gives him nearly as much joy as the orgasm he’s still recovering from.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like much. Cas never did fetish in his films before his early retirement, so there’s no reason to believe he’d be expected to now. But Dean knows what Cas really means by it. This is something just for them, something more intimate than two bodies rutting together as they work towards a sticky climax. It’s deeper than sex, and it’s something that Cas feels the need to protect. No matter what he’s expected to do on screen, there’s a part of him that will always be just for Dean, and that means the entire world.


	13. Boys on Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas gets back on the proverbial bicycle, Gabriel is Gabriel, and certain concerns are entirely unfounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is inspired by the fic [Boys on Film](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4124848) by [LoversAntiquities](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities) who writes some of the bestest Destiel stuff ever and you are probably already aware of this fact but just in case you weren't, go check out at LEAST this one fic. But you'll probably want to read the others. Just sayin'.

It doesn’t take Gabriel long to get everything sorted out once Cas agrees to film for him again. As it turns out, he already had everything lined up and waiting for Cas’ signature. Maybe he knew Cas was bluffing about wanting to get out or maybe he was just really confident in his negotiating abilities, but the ink is barely dry on the contract before Cas has the details of the shoot in his inbox.

“The place I’m filming is like, three blocks from your place,” he tells Dean, accepting the cup of coffee he’s been handed. Although the courier came by with the contract fairly early in the morning, Cas really only rolled out of bed long enough to receive it, depositing the package on the kitchen counter and then throwing himself back in bed to inspect Dean’s bruises in meticulous detail. Of course, he couldn’t just inspect them with his eyes. He had to trace the outlines of each purple mark with his tongue, run his fingertips along the welts left by the belt, touch and tease and _examine_ until Dean’s skin was thrumming with anticipation and desire. Still too worn out from the adventurous undertaking the night before to actually fuck first thing in the morning, they’d traded blowjobs in the hazy morning light and then hovered on the edge of sleep until Dean’s stomach growled so loud it couldn’t be ignored any longer. And Dean, wonderful boyfriend that he is, had taken it upon himself to make coffee while Cas read over the contract.

It’s exactly what Cas was expecting, apparently. Dean hasn’t looked at it, but there doesn’t seem to be anything hidden in there that he wasn’t anticipating. Whatever rules he had before have been carried over, and the financial portion of the contract is satisfactory. Still, it’s several pages, so it took a chunk of time for Cas to read over. Dean has no idea why it’s so satisfying to see that he read every single word before signing the bottom of the last page with a flourish and sliding the thing back into the courier sleeve, but it definitely is. And almost as soon as he texted Gabriel to say he’d signed it, his phone had chimed with an email notification, the details of the shoot beyond the parts covered in the contract.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, interested. He doesn’t really know much about what happens behind the scenes in porn, so this is all actually kind of intriguing.

“Yeah there’s a condo complex just north of here that Gabriel has sub-leased the penthouse on. I don’t know if he plans on keeping it for filming long term or if it’s just for this piece, but it’s pretty swank. Look, there’s pictures.” He turns the laptop so Dean can get a better view and scrolls slowly through the images. The entire place is bathed in natural light that streams through floor to ceiling windows, decorated in soft greys that give it a comfortable appearance. The furniture is all very modern looking, nothing Dean would ever pick for his own home, but he can definitely imagine Cas plowing a co-star on pretty much every surface he can see, so it works.

“Nice,” Dean murmurs appreciatively.

“You wanna swing by the set after work on Tuesday and check it out? We’ll probably be filming up until around seven. You could meet my co-star, see what happens on set? It’s all really professional.”

“Do you want me there?” Dean queries. He doesn’t feel the need to check up on Cas, and he certainly doesn’t want Cas to feel like he needs to _let_ Dean check up on him, but he also recognizes the importance of the offer, the invitation into Cas’ world. If he’s been told by everyone he’s dated before that porn stars aren’t boyfriend material, then chances are he’s never had someone in his life he felt like he even _could_ invite to set before.

“I want you to have whatever you need to keep being okay with this,” Cas tells him, worry plain on his face. “I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m hiding anything from you.”

“I don’t think that,” Dean assures him with perfect honesty. Cas has been completely upfront about all the details of his return to the more active part of the porn industry, and besides, Dean trusts him implicitly. Not a single thing he’s done or said has given Dean any reason not to trust him. It’s at least a little surprising to Dean that he’s come to this conclusion, but he doesn’t have a problem with Cas sleeping with other people as long as there’s no deception about it. Cas hasn’t given any indication that he wants partners other than Dean outside of the workplace anyway, so he’s reasonably certain he’s got all Cas’ attention to himself where it counts. “Besides, I’m pretty damn sure if I show up while you’re still filming, I’m just going to walk around sporting an awkward boner the whole time. I don’t think you want that.”

“Okay,” Cas concedes, still sounding a little skeptical. “Why don’t you come meet me at the set after I’m done filming then. We can go for dinner.”

“Only if you let me pick the restaurant,” Dean counters, all false disgruntlement. “You have terrible taste.”

“That can’t be entirely true,” Cas argues. “I picked you, didn’t I?”

\-----

Dean’s not worried. He’s _not._ He’s actually super chill about the whole thing. But the thing is, Cas is worried that Dean is going to be worried, so Dean spends the entirety of Tuesday worried about Cas being worried about Dean being worried. It’s thoroughly stupid, but Dean doesn’t really see any way around it in the short term. He just needs to stick it out, and eventually Cas will start to understand that Dean honestly means it when he says he doesn’t have a problem with the porn thing.

Right?

Right.

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because Dean is so busy throughout the day that even if he wanted to check up on Cas (he doesn’t), he’d be far too deep in the engine of the El Camino he’s just started rebuilding. The thing was all factory when it rolled in, which is always nice to work with, but it’s been very poorly cared for and it’s going to take a lot of work over the next month or so before it’s ready for delivery.  Regardless, he finds time to send a couple of quick texts at lunch time.

_Break a leg! Or, I guess, whatever variation on that sentiment you guys tend to use._

He’s not expecting Cas to reply right away. They didn’t actually discuss what time the shoot was supposed to start, but Dean assumes there’s probably prep work of some kind to do, makeup or wardrobe or something that’ll keep Cas occupied until the camera starts to roll.

**_I think we usually just go with good luck. You still sure you’re okay with this?_ **

It makes Dean’s heart hurt to think that even now, when he’s about to get in front of the camera, Cas thinks that this is going to become the thing that ruins it for them.

_Entirely sure. Stop worrying about it. You’re stuck with me. It’d take something a whole lot bigger than a skin flick career to get rid of me. Now get out there and make some porn. I’ll see you at 7_

Cas sends him back an emoji, that little smiley face with hearts for eyes, and Dean takes it as a sign that Cas is at least trying to believe him. It’ll have to do for now, but Dean looks forward to the day when he can finally convince Cas that he’s in this for the long haul.

When Dean strolls up to the door of the penthouse at seven, he’s not sure what to expect. He’s never been on the set of any kind of movie before, porn or otherwise. Is he gonna need some kind of a pass? Did Cas tell them he was coming? What if the shoot ran long, and he walks in while Cas has his dick in some guy’s ass? He’s serious when he tells Cas he doesn’t have a problem with it happening but he’s not entirely certain he’s ready to see it, at least not without a few moments to prepare. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to set. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

He knocks on the door anyway, and a broad-shouldered guy with biceps the size of Dean’s head opens it.

“Can I help you?” he asks flatly, blocking the doorway with his massive frame.

“Out of the way, meathead. Let him in!” A somewhat familiar voice calls from within the room, and before Dean has a chance to place it, Gabriel comes strolling into view. He’s far more subdued than he was at the party, at least as far as his fashion sense goes. There are no garish prints to assault Dean’s eyes, but it’s definitely the same guy, the one who tried to get Dean in front of the camera, the one who was upset he couldn’t get the right kind of Jell-O for his Jell-O wrestling pool. “Dean, good to see you. Find the place okay?”

“Yeah I uh,” Dean doesn’t even really get to reply before he’s being dragged into the penthouse. Gabriel has a deathgrip on one of his hands, pulling him along with much more strength than his tiny frame would suggest he has at his disposal. “It’s not too far from my house. Cas told you I was coming by then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel says dismissively. “He’s just in the shower. Can I get you a drink?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, drawing Dean over to a bar set up off to the side of the sunken living area, where he throws ice cubes into a glass before filling it with a more than generous measure of scotch. It’s not a brand Dean recognizes, but the bottle says it’s fifteen years old, so it must have cost a pretty penny. Dean takes the glass with a nod of gratitude.

“Thanks,” Dean offers hesitantly.

“Hey no worries. In fact, I should be thanking you.”

Dean just smiles and sips his drink, not really sure what the guy is talking about and also not particularly interested.

“I mean,” Gabriel continues, “the way I understand it, you’re the reason I’ve got my star back.”

“Cas is the reason you have Cas back. I just happened to be there when he decided.” Dean eyes Gabriel warily, remembering what Cas had to say about the sliminess of some of the people in this industry.   
“If you think anyone, including me, is gonna make him do something he doesn’t actually want to, you clearly don’t know Cas.”

“Touché,” Gabriel concedes. “Still, I’m sure you had a little bit of a hand in it. He was pretty damn adamant when I talked to him earlier in the day and then all of a sudden he’s ready to negotiate? You don’t have to say anything. I know you talked to him.”

Dean doesn’t say a word in reply, just raises his glass and takes a slow sip of whiskey. He has no desire to give Gabriel the satisfaction.

“Anyway, whether you’re gonna cop to it or not, you have my gratitude. You ever need anything, you just give me a call.” He holds out a business card, one that Dean has no intention of taking. It doesn’t seem to matter though, as Gabriel just slips it into the pocket of Dean’s jeans.

“You got issues with personal space,” Dean tells him.

“I got issues with a lot of things,” Gabriel answers wryly. “Seriously though. You need anything, you call me. Especially if what you need is a career of your own. I could even get you on camera with Cas if you wanted. Couple guys as good looking as you two, with that kind of chemistry? You’d be a hit.”

“The man said no,” Cas’ voice chimes in. Dean hadn’t even realized Cas had made his way out of the bathroom, but he’s relieved as hell to see him. Cas comes up behind Dean, snaking arms around his waist. “Should we get out of here?” he says to Dean.

Gabriel makes a face. “See, that’s the kind of chemistry I’m talking about. You guys would be awesome.”

“Hard no,” Dean calls over his shoulder, setting the drink down on a random side table as Cas pulls him toward the door. “Thanks for the drink though!”

Cas doesn’t stop pulling until they’re in the elevator. “Sorry about Gabriel,” he offers sincerely. “He’s…pushy.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. He’ll give up eventually.”

“I doubt it. But you just keep telling him where to stuff it and he might stop being serious about it.” Cas kisses him gently, hands clutching at Dean’s biceps. “I hope wherever you picked for dinner is nearby. I’m starving.”

\-----

If Dean’s being honest, and at least right now, he totally is, there’s a small part (okay kind of a big part) of his brain that figures that Cas being in porn again means there’s going to be a marked decline in their sex life. Because Dean is a Really Good Guy ™ though, he’s not even upset about that. Okay, maybe he’s a little bit upset about that. But just a little. His dick doesn’t make all his decisions. Just the ones about deciding to send nude selfies to porn stars that inexplicably end up with his phone number. Definitely not the real life ones.

But he’s definitely got no plans to bring it up. He just figures that probably the days Cas is filming he can just expect not to get laid, and make sure he enjoys it that much more on the days Cas isn’t filming. It’ll be fine.  It’s a small price to pay to see Cas this happy. He’ll just…those will be the days where he jacks off, is all. He’s certainly got enough spank bank fodder after all the amazing things Cas has done to him. He won’t even need to watch any porn, he’ll just think about first hand experiences. It’ll be fine.

In any case, he’s doing his best to shelve those thoughts when he and Cas walk into the pizza place he picked. Honestly he’s only even heard of it because Sam and Jess found it last week and haven’t stopped raving. Every time Dean talks to them (which is actually quite a lot considering the wedding is coming up pretty soon and there are still a _lot_ of things they need Dean’s help with), they ask if he’s tried the pizza place yet, and every time he says no there’s yelling. So, Dean needs somewhere good to take Cas for a celebratory first-day-back-on-set dinner, and he also needs to not get yelled at anymore. Two birds, one dinner. It’s perfect.

The place is…cute. There’s little two-seat tables everywhere with red and white checkered tablecloths, waiters and waitresses with aprons that match, and framed pictures of Italian landmarks dotting the walls. The waiter that seats them smiles politely, but when he looks at Cas he does kind of a double-take, barely forestalling whatever kind of exclamation his brain planned to make. Cas waves it off with good humour.

“Another doting fan?” Dean says with a chuckle as they take their seats.

“Apparently. Most people who recognize me, they’re noticing my face. You’re the first person who’s ever recognized me by my dick.” He opens his menu without even looking up, but Dean catches a glimpse of the cocky smirk on his face, the one he always gets when he’s being a little shit and knows it.

“To be fair,” Dean counters, “it was technically your tattoos that gave it away. Although, if I saw that same picture _now,_ I’d probably be able to recognize your dick on sight.”

Cas throws back his head and laughs, a beautiful sound. “Well yeah, now you’re intimately familiar with it. What kind of pizza do you want? I’m a fan of Hawaiian.”

Dean makes a face. “Pineapple? Gross, dude.”

“You don’t like pineapple on pizza? What the fuck? How did I ever end up with such a heathen?” Cas eyes him with mocking disdain.

“I was thinking the same thing about you. Who puts fucking fruit on a pizza? You know what? You go ahead and order your disgusting pineapple pizza, but don’t think I’m gonna kiss you afterwards.” Dean picks up his own menu, flipping it open and perusing the options.

“Can’t have that,” Cas says with somber determination. “We’ll have to agree on a pizza you don’t find reprehensible. Margherita?”

Dean shakes his head. “There’s no meat on that.”

“Sausage and mushroom?” Cas suggests.

“Hell yeah,” Dean agrees. “So how was the shoot? Is it like riding a bicycle, you never really forget? Or did you keep getting your arm in the shot like that guy in Phoenix?”

“Like riding a bike,” Cas confirms. “I mean, I was always pretty good at it, but you’ve also kept me in practice fairly well so it’s not like I needed much time to find my footing or anything. My co-star, this guy named Victor, I think you’d really like him. Totally dry sense of humor, and he’s always calling Gabriel on his bullshit.”

“Sounds like a decent guy,” Dean agrees. “So it was a good shoot?”

“Yeah, it was good. Excellent. Really hot. I could tell you all about it,” Cas replies, trailing off. When he speaks again, his voice drops low, too quiet for anyone else in the room to hear, just for Dean’s ears. “I’d much rather show you though, when we get home.”

Dean eyes Cas with wide-eyed surprise, mouth working silently as he tries to find an appropriate response.  He doesn’t find any words, but the smile that creeps across Cas’ face tells him that when they get home, he’s totally in for it.

\-----

Cas slams him into the wall the second the door closes behind them, his mouth latching onto Dean’s throat and drawing out moans loud enough to alert the neighbors. He’s in rare form tonight, especially pushy and aggressive. Not that Dean’s complaining. No, not at all. No complaints here, and not just because he’s too busy making happy little noises to actually form words, complaining or otherwise.

“Shit, you’re hot,” Cas murmurs against his throat, a throwback to his comment on the first picture Dean ever sent him. Cas doesn’t need flattery to get into Dean’s pants though. He’s got a standing invitation and he knows it. As if inspired by those thoughts, Cas’ hand works its way down Dean’s chest, splaying fingers out as he moves lower. When he reaches Dean’s waistband, he doesn’t even pause, going right for his button and zipper, then sliding his hand into Dean’s shorts to palm his already hardening cock.

“You don’t mess around,” Dean breathes, again, not complaining. “What’s your hurry?”

“I’m always excited about getting in your pants,” Cas tells him, then claims Dean’s lips in a kiss so fierce, Dean couldn’t resist it if he wanted to. Instead, he whimpers against Cas’ lips, his hands wandering wherever they please on Cas’ body, and lets himself enjoy it. Cas feels good pressed against him, and whatever it is Cas plans to show him, Dean is completely on board.

 “You taste like chocolate,” Cas whispers in his ear, moving again to suck and nibble at Dean’s throat.

“That’s because you insisted on getting the banana Nutella dessert pizza.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining back then,” Cas reminds him

“Not complaining now,” Dean counters.

“Good, ‘cause I got plans for you.” Cas pulls his hand out of Dean’s pants and tugs him away from the wall by his belt loops, shoving him towards the bedroom with both hands. Dean gets only a few steps closer to the door before he lets out a yelp. Cas, theobnoxious little shit, has landed a heavy handed swat to his ass, and through the denim it doesn’t really hurt that much but it sure as fuck catches him off guard.

“So what’s the master plan?” Dean calls over his shoulder, sauntering into the bedroom a little too casually for someone who just made such an undignified noise.

“You’ll see. Starts with you getting out of those pants, though.” Cas doesn’t bother elaborating. He just grabs Dean’s pants and his boxers shoving them unceremoniously towards the floor. His hands are on Dean’s ass the second it’s exposed, palming and kneading.

“All of your plans start with getting me out of my pants,” Dean points out helpfully.

Cas laughs darkly. “You’re not wrong,” he concedes. “Come on, shirt too. Lemme see you.” He doesn’t wait for Dean to comply, just starts tugging at the hem of Dean’s shirt until he has no choice but to lift his arms and let himself be undressed. Cas spins him around and kisses him again, the kind of kiss that leaves him panting and breathless, with his head spinning and his lips red from the crush.

“No fair,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips. “I’m totally naked and you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

“You just let me worry about that,” Cas assures him, planting a firm hand on Dean’s chest and giving him a shove that sends him toppling backwards to land on the bed with a bounce. Dean pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching Cas’ tattooed muscles rippling as he strips out of his shirt, then drops his pants and steps out of them.

Cas moves quickly to climb onto the bed, every motion still graceful, no matter how hastily made. He kneels between Dean’s thighs and leans over on his hands so he can drop kisses all over Dean’s throat and chest. Dean moans his pleasure, loving the affection and the attention, throwing his head back to expose more of his throat for Cas to play with. There is something so amazing about the way Cas makes him feel like the center of his universe. When they’re together like this, Cas doesn’t have anything else in the world he’d rather be doing, and he makes sure Dean knows it every single second.

Dean whimpers when Cas takes a nipple between his teeth, arching his back and gripping Cas’ shoulders for all he’s worth. It’s just shy of too sharp, the way he rolls the nub between his teeth, but the pain coupled with the wet heat of his mouth is exactly what Dean loves. Cas laughs softly with his mouth still pressed to Dean’s skin, then works his way lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down Dean’s belly. Dean thinks he knows where Cas is going, but he’s wrong.

Cas bypasses Dean’s dick altogether, instead opting to hook his hands behind Dean’s knees and push his legs back, lifting his ass up in the air. And then there’s Cas’ tongue, trailing from his balls back towards his hole. Dean sighs with pleasure when he feels the first tentative licks. The heat of Cas’ mouth has him feeling so good, relaxing as he runs the flat of his tongue over Dean’s hole in long, slow strokes.

“Fuck,” Dean groans. He’s got a death grip on the bedclothes, but Cas lets go of one of his thighs so he can grab Dean’s hand and place it firmly on the back of his own head, urging Dean to guide him, to show him what he likes. Not wanting to rush things, Dean just tangles his fingers in Cas’ messy hair, encouraging him with gentle touches and breathy moans. Cas keeps licking at him slowly, teasingly, just enough pressure to make Dean feel good but not really enough to open him up. Gradually, as the minutes tick on and Dean gets wetter and wetter, he also gets more insistent. Whereas at first, he was just guiding Cas with a hand on the back of his head, he starts to draw him in a little closer, urging Cas to drive the point of his tongue into Dean, to work him open instead of just teasing. Cas obliges happily, moaning softly as he goes. Dean moans too, less a soft noise and more a debauched, wrecked sound that spills carelessly from his lips and fills the room. He can’t help it. Cas has him flying so high he can’t contain the noises that he makes in appreciation.

For all Cas’ earlier enthusiasm, Dean expects him to be hurrying this along. He expects that any second, Cas is going to stop licking him open and get his cock in there. Maybe he’s going to fuck Dean into the mattress. Maybe he’s going to go about it with long, slow thrusts. Maybe it’ll be rough and frantic. Dean doesn’t know. But he’s sure, he’s absolutely certain, that Cas has teased him long enough. He’s been intense and focused and aggressive since they got in the door, and Dean loves that about him. Absolutely adores it. But he’s also aware that it usually means much less preamble. When Cas gets like this, usually he can’t wait to get his dick in Dean’s ass.

Apparently, today is a little bit different.

Dean keeps waiting for the rimming to end, but it doesn’t. And he’s enjoying every fucking second of it, doesn’t particularly _want_ it to end, but he’s still certain it’s gotta. Cas has had his face buried between Dean’s thighs for what seems like forever, tirelessly working his mouth to turn Dean into a puddle of arousal. His cock is so hard it nearly aches, a steady trail of precome drooling from the tip as it bobs along with every movement, and he’s long past the point where he needs any kind of warmup. He’s totally ready for the main event.

And still, Cas keeps going.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, you going for a world record or something?” he asks breathlessly, punctuating the question with a heady moan, one he doesn’t even try to contain. Cas lets go of one of Dean’s thighs, prompting Dean to reach up with his free hand and hold his own leg aloft, and now that Cas has a hand to use he gets right to sliding a finger in alongside his tongue.

“Maybe,” Cas murmurs tauntingly, then goes back to licking Dean out without mercy, his mouth and his finger working in tandem to drive Dean out of his mind. And Dean doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. He’s so turned on he feels like he’s going to explode, and Cas doesn’t show any signs of slowing. If anything, he’s even more enthusiastic now, like he’s being inspired by Dean’s desperate moans and needy whimpers. He slides a second finger in alongside the first, still dipping his tongue in and licking at Dean’s slick rim.

It’s nowhere near enough to push Dean over the edge. He knows this. He can come untouched with a cock in his ass, especially if Cas sees fit to nail his prostate while he’s going at it, but he’s never managed to pull it off just from having his ass licked. It doesn’t even seem possible. There isn’t enough friction. But it is definitely arousing enough that it has Dean pretty damn close to that precipice. He’s so turned on it hurts. He’s thinking about begging. He’s desperate for release, desperate to feel Cas filling him up.

Dean has no idea when it happened, but he becomes aware that there are tears leaking from his eyes. Just a few, just a couple of errant drops at first, but, as if becoming aware of it triggered a floodgate, those drops become a steady stream, and then he’s full on crying. Not weeping or sobbing, but definitely crying.

“Cas,” he whines, annoyed at how plaintive his voice sounds to his own ears. “Cas, come on babe. You gotta…”

Cas presses a few quick kisses to Dean’s inner thighs before he raises up enough to look Dean in the eye. “Oh baby,” he offers soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to wipe away Dean’s tears. “Too much?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies hoarsely. “Fuck. Good, but…”

“Overwhelming?” Cas supplies.

“Yes. That.”

“You wanna stop?”

Dean shakes his head fiercely. “Not a chance. I do want you to get your dick in my ass already. If you don’t make me come soon I think I’m going to fucking explode.” His voice is still watery, as much as he tries to fight it. God, when did Dean become _that_ guy, the one who cries during sex?

“I think I can arrange that,” Cas assures him. Dean is briefly bereaved at the loss of contact as Cas moves away to rummage in the nightstand, but then he’s right back between Dean’s thighs, dribbling a bit of lube on his fingers and sliding them back in carefully. He pets Dean’s thighs, soothing and shushing him with soft words and gentle touches. At least the overwhelming assault of fingers and tongue had Dean most of the way ready for Cas’ cock though, because it’s not long before Cas is rolling on a condom and rising up to his knees, ready to finally slide his cock into Dean’s ass.

He goes slow and careful, but he needn’t worry. Dean’s had plenty of prep and he fits in easily, only a little bit of burn to make Dean squirm as he goes. Cas’ first few thrusts are shallow and experimental, rocking his hips just a little. Dean starts to move with him, rolling his hips up to meet Cas’ thrusts and urge him on. He slides a hand down his own body, fingertips dancing over his hips, to wrap around his cock and jerk it in time with Cas’ movements.

“God you sound good,” Cas praises. “I love how vocal you are. You gonna sing for me, Dean?” he asks tauntingly, punctuating with a deeper thrust of his hips, and Dean cries out with pleasure. Cas laughs, grinning down at him, and picks up the pace. Dean’s not going to last long, not after all the overstimulation, not with Cas filling him up like this.  Cas seems to know this, and it’s either exactly what he wants or he doesn’t care either way, because he rocks into Dean at a steady pace, his hips colliding with Dean’s ass hard enough to let the sound of skin slapping on skin fill the air, and he shows no signs of slowing down.

Cas shifts his angle, allowing the head of his cock to drive into Dean’s prostate, and Dean is done for. Finished. The game is totally over. He’s crying out desperately, throwing his head back to groan out his pleasure as his cock spurts ribbons of come over his hand and onto his belly. Cas grins at him, muttering under his breath about how gorgeous Dean is, how good he feels, how much he wants this. And then he redoubles his efforts, fucking into Dean like he was holding back, just waiting for Dean to get off so he could let loose. Dean gasps at the new intensity of the sensation, letting his softening cock fall, and delights in the pleasure of Cas riding him hard like this.

When Cas comes, it’s with Dean’s name on his lips.  “Dean!” he groans, slamming home one last time, working his hips in little circles as he rides out the waves of pleasure. He pulls out and discards the condom, swiping a  shirt through the mess of come on Dean’s belly, then flops down to the bed and tugs Dean into his arms.

“So that’s what you wanted to show me?” Dean asks with a laugh.

“Not quite. I was gonna have you ride me, originally. That’s what we did in the shoot. Thought you’d look pretty fine bouncing on my cock. But I didn’t think you were up for it.” He kisses the back of Dean’s neck, nuzzling into his hair and holding him close with arms around his waist.

“Yeah uh, probably not,” Dean agrees, still a little mortified about the whole crying during sex thing.

“You had fun though?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean assures him. “Just got a little overwhelmed. I gotta admit though, I wasn’t even really expecting to get laid tonight.”

“Why not?” Cas asks him, his voice thick with confusion and maybe a little bit of concern.

“Well, I mean, you just spent the day fucking on camera. Figured the last thing you’d want to do is come home and do it all over again.”

“Dean.” Cas says his name fondly, but he’s clearly a little exasperated. “You should have told me you were worried about this. I don’t want anything about my job to get in the way of our relationship.”

“I know, I know!” Dean exclaims. “But I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. I want you to have this. And I figured, okay, well you’re not going to be shooting every day, so even if we don’t end up messing around on days when you’re filming that’s still not a big deal. It would have been fine. I can see now that I was worried for nothing, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. You know I can’t keep my hands off of you. Besides, even if I’m too exhausted from filming to, you know, fuck you, there’s plenty of other ways I can make you feel good. I have no plans to let my work affect our sex life.”

“I can see that,” Dean assures him. “I’m definitely not worried anymore.”

“Good,” Cas says firmly. “Because if I have to choose between you and my porn career, I’m choosing you. But I’m glad I don’t have to choose at all.”

Dean smiles softly. “So you’re going to sign on for more shoots then?”

“I think so. If you’re still cool with it?”

“You got it,” Dean tells him with certainty. “If you’re going to come home from work and do things like this on a regular basis, I can’t think of a single reason to protest.”

“Then I guess it’s settled. I’m gonna keep doing porn, and I’m gonna keep fucking you into the mattress when I get home. It’s a hard life,” Cas says with an exaggerated sigh. “But I’ll get through it somehow.”

Dean rolls his eyes, not that Cas can see him from his position as big spoon, but his smile is fond. This is the man he fell in love with, the one who fucks like a stallion and makes terrible jokes and winks when he deep-throats. Dean never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of the kind of unsolicited dick pic that brought them together, but now that he’s got Cas in his life, he’s pretty damn grateful he forgot to turn his phone off that fateful night. Not only did he get some pretty great spank bank material out of the occurrence, he also got the guy he’s going to take to his brother’s wedding in a couple weeks, and that’s a pretty big win in Dean’s book. If it also means he has someone who likes to tie him up and spank his ass and rim him until he cries, well, sometimes the universe is just really, unpredictably kind.


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam and Jess get married, and everything is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is it. The end of the ride. This lil fic, which by the way was just supposed to be PWP and have definitely no feels at all, is finally coming to a close. I'm absolutely floored by the level of attention this has received, and the comments I've gotten have been just absolutely amazing. You guys make me feel that the time I put in to writing this has been time well spent.
> 
> One more thank you to my beautiful beta KreweOfImp, for fixing my grammatical errors and helping me make this fic better but also for just being an all around amazing person. I don't know what my life would be like without her, but I sure as fuck don't plan on finding out any time soon.
> 
> Ive had several people ask me about potential sequels/timestamps for this fic. As of this moment, I don't plan a return to this universe, but that doesn't mean I never will. I don't make promises about sequels. I am _terrible_ at following through on things like that. But if I do end up doing anything else with this world, you guys have definitely given me some fantastic ideas to play with.
> 
> Thanks again for your flailing and your screaming and your kudos. You guys are the best

“I don’t want to talk about my job at the wedding.”

Dean freezes, hands clutching the half tied necktie around his throat.  “Sure, okay,” he replies, a little confused. “You know Sam and Jess don’t have a problem with what you do.”

“I know that,” Cas assures him. “Or at least, Jess doesn’t. But their guests….maybe not so much. And this isn’t about me, but I’m pretty damn sure a discussion about how the groom’s brother is dating a gay porn star might take just a little bit of the attention off the happy couple.”

“Touché.” Dean finishes knotting his tie, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt and slipping into his suit jacket. “Okay, that’s totally cool. You wanna BS it or just dodge the question?”

“Just tell ‘em I direct independent films and leave it at that. Not even really a lie, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. That works for me. You almost ready to go?”

“I am,” Cas tells him with a smile, dropping his phone and his wallet into the pockets of his pants. He looks so good in a suit. Dean almost wishes he wore them more, only it means they’d have to do more things that called for that level of formality.

He follows Cas out of the room with a broad smile on his face. Today is a good day.

 

Dean doesn’t cry at Sam and Jess’ vows. He just doesn’t, okay? Sure, there’s a couple of tears, but honestly it’s just really bright out and he’s pretty certain there’s a higher than usual amount of pollen in the air and…

Yeah, okay, he cries.

He definitely cries.

But it’s fucking beautiful, so anyone who wants to say anything about that can cram it with walnuts. Jess is radiant, as usual, her blonde hair intricately styled and her dress a perfect vision in white and her smile so broad and genuine it seems like a physical manifestation of her love for Sam. And Sam himself may be just a floppy haired dork in a suit but God, he looks happy. His joy shines like nothing else, and Dean almost cannot fathom the kind of love in his eyes when he looks at Jess.

Almost, that is, until he looks out into the crowd and sees Cas sitting there, and he realizes his own face must be shining with the same kind of love. He’s got a job to do though, so he has to put thoughts of Cas aside for the time being. He hands Sam the rings when called upon, signs as Sam’s witness, poses for photos like he’s supposed to, and the whole time the absolute euphoria of the day suffuses him. Sam and Jess deserve this.

And after all that, after the ceremony and the photos, there’s dinner and drinks, and that means speeches. There have to be speeches. Jess’ dad makes this horribly awkward overture about how he never imagined his little girl marrying a long haired hippie and it eventually turns out endearing but he takes a long ass time getting there. Her bridesmaids all have these great stories about love and friendship. Eventually, it’s Dean’s turn. He squeezes Cas’ hand for encouragement before he takes the mic and stands up to address the crowd.

“Hey folks,” he begins with trademark bravado. “My name is Dean, and I’m Sam’s older, considerably more attractive brother. Some of you I know, and for that I think some apologies are in order. Some of you only know _of_ me, and to you, I would like to issue a reminder that Sam is a lawyer and therefore a big fat liar and he can’t prove any of it.

As you may or may not have noticed, we’re here today for a celebration. That’s right, Sam Winchester finally found a girl that’s tall enough to stand beside him for the rest of his life and not look like a Keebler Elf. Well done Sam. Good on you kid.

All joking aside, this is a pretty great day. I mean, if our parents were here right now, I’m sure they’d have some much more poetic words of pride to share. I know for a fact that Mom and Dad were both proud of Sam for their entire lives, and they’d be just as proud to stand here today and see him marry this gorgeous, brilliant woman. My mom would have loved Jess. My dad would have respected the absolute hell out of her. She’s honestly too good for my brother, and I’m so very glad they got married before she realized that, because she’s stuck with him now.

As an older brother, technically, I’m supposed to be the one who does the teaching. I should have been the one sharing knowledge with Sam, but time and time again, it’s been the other way around. I’m no dummy – shut the hell up Sam, I’m not – but Sam has always been there to teach me when to pull my head out of my own ass, and to call me out when I’m being a complete tool.

Sam has also taught me how to stand up for what I believe in, how to follow my heart, and that it’s important to decide for yourself what kind of man you want to be. He helped me through the loss of our parents and he helped me get back on my feet after, and I know it was just as hard for him as it was for me but he always knew how to move forward. Sam’s a good man, one of the best, and I know that he and Jess are going to be the absolute happiest, because I can’t think of any two people who deserve joy more than they do.”

Dean raises his glass and the crowd mimics the motion, cheering loudly and sharing in the sentiments. There’s clapping and hollering, and Dean catches sight out of the corner of his eye of Sam and Jess sharing a kiss and an embrace. When he sits back down, it’s Cas that smiles at him.

“Nice speech,” he murmurs, and Dean can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking so he just shrugs it off. “I mean it. That was beautiful.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Dean says, dismissive, but he’s blushing and smiling all the same.

 

When Sam and Jess take to the floor for their first dance, Dean hangs back at the head table, his fingers interlaced with Cas’ as they watch the happy couple sway in time with the music. At least they didn’t end up doing one of those intricately choreographed first dances. That would have been terrible. They’re barely dancing at all really, just holding each other close and drifting around the general center of the dance floor. The way they look at each other though, it’s so full of love and admiration and affection that it makes Dean’s heart hurt in the best way possible.

“They’re gonna be real happy together,” says a voice behind him. Dean looks up to find Jody Mills, a long-time family friend and the Justice of the Peace that presided over the ceremony, standing behind himself and Cas with a soft smile on her face.

“Yeah, I think so,” Dean agrees, because he honestly does. He’s never seen Sam so happy. “Jodi, this is my boyfriend Cas. I don’t think the two of you have been introduced.”

Cas stands and holds out his hand in greeting, but Jody bypasses it and goes in for a hug instead. “Drop the formalities, kid. You’re practically family. Dean sees fit to bring you to his little brother’s wedding, you gotta be somebody pretty special.”

“I try.” Cas smiles, hugging her back just as eagerly while Dean tries not to laugh. He’s known Jody for years and this is pretty much exactly how he’d expect her to be treating Cas. There is no one warmer or more welcoming. She can be an absolute hard-ass when she sees fit, but she’s basically everyone’s mom, regardless of how old they are.

Jody steps back, still grinning, and takes a good long look at Cas’ face. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? I feel like I know your face.”

“Don’t think so,” Cas tells her with a shake of his head. “I think I’d remember that. I think I’ve just got one of those faces.”

“If you say so,” Jody replies, still looking slightly perplexed. “That must be it. Well anyway, it’s nice meeting you, but I should go make the rounds. You boys stay out of trouble.”

“No promises,” Dean tells her fondly. There’s a good solid minute where he just watches her disappear into the crowd, the music of Sam and Jess’ first dance swallowing up the sound of her conversation, before Cas speaks.

“So…pretty sure your brother’s officiant watches gay porn.”

Dean chokes on his laughter. “What, Jody?”

“Well, let’s be honest. I do _not_ have one of those faces and we’ve definitely never met before. I’m pretty sure I know exactly where she recognized me from.” Cas shrugs. “I guess my appeal is more universal than I thought.”

“Oh that is so weird.” Dean shakes his head. “Nope. I can’t do it. I’m repressing that. It never happened.”

“Yeah alright,” Cas teases. “Let me know how that goes.” He sighs contentedly, watching Sam and Jess dance with a dreamy look on his face.

“What?”

“They look so happy,” Cas replies softly.

“You jealous? Dreaming about having your own big wedding?” Dean slings an arm around Cas’ shoulders, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Why? You askin’?” Cas taunts, avoiding the question.

Dean laughs. “Not right this minute. But I could think of worse ways to spend the rest of my life.” Cas goes quiet and still for a moment, then he reaches up to grab Dean’s hand. The first dance is drawing to a close and some slow, romantic tune starts to drift from the sound system. As Dean watches, other couples start to cluster on the dance floor, joining Sam and Jess, who do not appear to have noticed that their song has ended or that they have company. They only have eyes for each other.

“Come on,” Cas tells him. “We should go dance.”

Dean lets himself be led to the dance floor, Cas’ hand warm against his palm. They don’t have any fancier moves than Sam and Jess did, that’s for sure, but it feels absolutely perfect to be swaying slowly with Cas, close enough that the rest of the world falls away. They move in silence, smiling at each other and drifting with the music, and it’s kinda perfect.

“You’d be cool with that?” Cas says after a while. “Marrying a porn star?” Instead of answering immediately, Dean kisses him softly and slowly, leaving Cas blinking and unsteady on his feet.

“Not just any porn star,” Dean admits. “But I could be pretty damn happy marrying a guy like you, who just happens to do porn. Hell, I’d marry the shit out of a guy like you.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Cas murmurs, dropping his head to Dean’s shoulder. They’re barely moving at all now, but Dean doesn’t care.

“Try and stop me,” Dean challenges. “Bet you look great in a tux, anyway. Can’t imagine passing up the opportunity to see you all dressed up like that. At this point, it’s only a matter of time before I can’t resist anymore.” And who cares if it’s the sappiest fucking thing. Dean is happy, and Cas is happy. That’s all that matters.

When they finally sit down again several songs later, there’s a message on Dean’s phone. It’s from Sam, and Dean is gonna have to give him some serious shit later for paying attention to anything at all other than his glowing bride, but whatever.

**_So, you know, Jody was mentioning to me earlier that she’s never officiated a gay wedding, but she’d totally be down for it if someone she knew happened to need that particular service. Just sayin’_ **

Dean smiles softly as he looks up, casting his eyes across the room to catch sight of his brother. When he finds Sam chatting animatedly with Jess and Jody and Jess’ mom, he gives Sam a subtle nod and a smile, and Sam nods back knowingly.

“What?” Cas asks, returning from the bar with fresh drinks.

“Nothing,” Dean tells him, drawing Cas into another kiss.

But the wheels are in motion, and it started, as many things do these days, with a text message.


	15. Bonus!

This isn't a real chapter, but rather, a way to make sure all the lovely people who are subscribed to this finished work know that I've posted a timestamp in this verse! Head [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915590) to check it out! I won't be doing this for future timestamps (which I do plan to write) so if you want to make sure you're notified when they happen, subscribe to the series, or to me as an author!

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to come scream at me about this fic or like basically anything else, I can be found on [Tumblr.](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com) I welcome it. Please come scream at me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(art for) Unsolicited](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837986) by [featherfluff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherfluff/pseuds/featherfluff)




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